


Spring Blossom

by orphan_account



Series: Spirk Family [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alien anatomy, Bonding, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Get Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Post canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-06 13:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14058126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jim and Spock are also parents now, for however long.Oh my god.  Jim and Spock are also parents now.He looks down at the baby and thinks quietly to himself,what have we done?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I have a soft spot for parent Spirk fic, and I wanted to try my hand at a multi-chaptered work. I have like 5 days of vacation where I'm literally doing nothing, so fanfic it is! This is post-5 year mission, and I'm not tagging Discovery in it because it's set way post Discovery, and the only character from it is Michael (and I guess Sarek). We'll see how long it takes before the plot of Discovery josses this entire thing lol.

Staring out the window, Jim pushes his hand to the glass and sighs, feeling the pressing cold. It isn’t unlike pressing his hand against the observation deck screen, except he couldn’t have opened the latch and felt what was outside unless he was truly ready to die. Which he wasn’t.

Five years, come and gone. And it wasn’t the end for him—for any of them, but stepping off the Enterprise and onto land for an undetermined amount of time was a lot to handle. Kirk had little left here—his mother gone, Sam gone, his crew disbursed across continents and always friends, but not quite the family they would have been.

He hears the soft, Vulcan lyre from the other room and he sighs quietly to himself, feeling a sort of contentment he hadn’t expected when Spock announced that he would not be departing to New Vulcan. Not in part because he was sterile, which left him with very little duty left, as New Vulcan quickly established itself while they were in space.

“Earth was my mother’s home once,” is what he told Jim on their final night before docking. “She wished for me to feel at home there as well.”

“You could teach again,” is what Jim said in response. Spock’s nod comforted him some, let him know that it was a logical decision, and not in a large part Jim’s glaring loneliness.

What they had between them was unspoken, it was on the cusp of something, though it remained also unnamed. But now Jim feels it even stronger, with Spock meditating just a room away, with no plans to do anything beyond what they are doing now.

It could be a year, it could be two before they’re given another mission. Kirk could easily teach at the Academy—has in fact been offered numerous posts, but he doesn’t mind taking the time to figure it out—not just life, but everything that comes with it.

He hears the chirp of a comm, and the music stops momentarily. He expects it to pick back up again, but instead Spock’s socked feet shuffle against the polished wood of the floor and he pauses several paces away.

“I have received a request to meet with two members of Starfleet,” Spock says in a soft voice that sounds almost shaken.

Jim turns to see him paler than usual, just a hint of green high on his cheekbones. “Spock,” he says.

Spock swallows. “It is in regards to my sister.”

Jim blinks, viscerally startled. “You…what. What?” He takes a step back—or well, he tries before remembering that there’s glass there. “Your sister? When did you…how do you…you never mentioned her.”

“It seemed unnecessary at the time,” Spock says. Then clarifies, “She was convicted of mutiny and given a life sentence before she was pardoned and joined the Discovery.”

Jim winces in sympathy, then his eyes go wide and he fights the urge to cover his mouth because holy shit. “Holy shit,” is what he says aloud. “The Mutineer. I did…I did a thesis on her in high school.” Then he realizes how damn insensitive that probably is because Spock is her brother but also what. And how? “Hang on, your dad…had another human partner?”

Spock shakes his head as he clearly tries to compose himself. He presses his hands behind his back, a rare gesture these days, and his shoulders straighten. “She is adopted. Her parents and mine were close companions when hers were attacked and murdered by Klingons.”

Jim sucks in a sharp breath.

“My parents took her in shortly before my birth. She was raised on Vulcan, and given the opportunity to test into the Vulcan Science Academy, but was denied entrance based on her human status.”

Jim fights the urge to roll his eyes. For all that the Vulcans criticized humans for their lack of logic, he finds absolutely no logic in such intense xenophobia. “So she went to Starfleet.”

“Affirmative,” Spock says. “As you have studied her extensively, you know the rest of the story.”

“For the record,” Jim says, feeling the need to defend his position on Michael Burnham, “I was on her side. My thesis defended her position on the Shenzhou. It might not have worked, but it was a better option than what they did.”

Spock says nothing in return to that.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a sister. That _she_ was your sister,” Jim says, and runs his hands through his hair in distress.

“The information was unnecessary until now, though after all this time I have become more distinctly aware of the human desire to possess useless pieces of knowledge about one’s companions,” Spock concedes. “For that, I apologize. It was not my intention to withhold this from you, Jim.”

Jim waves him off because it’s pretty much whatever. It’s Spock. “Okay yeah. No big. But what exactly do they want with you? Shit, she’s not in trouble again, is she?”

Spock looks down at the PADD he’s still holding, then back up at Jim. “It says it’s personal matters.”

Jim knows what that means. He knows that that always means, and his stomach sinks and his heart _aches_ because Spock has already lost so fucking much. His mother, his planet, his brother. His father’s nearing the age where he won’t be around much longer. And now this. Jim knows the ache of loss intimately and though they say misery loves company, Spock is the last person in the world Jim would ever wish this on.

“I’ll…I can go with you,” he says.

Spock hesitates, then gives one sharp nod. “The company would be most appreciated, Jim. Thank you.”

Jim doesn’t wave off the thanks even if it is unnecessary. He knows that Spock knows that there’s nothing Jim wouldn’t do for him. It’s part of this thing between them that needs to evolve into something else, or it needs to die out, though if the latter happens Jim thinks it might actually kill him.

But now there’s something even heavier between them, and Jim fights back the urge to follow Spock when he turns and leaves the room. It’s a near thing, but he does stop himself, knowing how important Spock’s mediation will be.

~*~ 

Jim doesn’t expect to discuss the matter further, and kind of thinks about going back into Michael Burnham’s records again because the whole Vulcan thing was mysteriously left out of her public records. Then again, being branded the Mutineer, he figures the High Counsel would have wanted to classify the fuck out of her upbringing lest it bring any sort of shame to their people.

But instead of being left to his own devices, Spock enters his room with a PADD in his hands, dressed in his silk sleep clothes. “If you would be agreeable,” he says in that slow, soft way he speaks just before bed, “I would like to share what little I have with you about my sister.”

Jim feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest, because Spock has shared a lot, but rarely anything this intimate. He shifts over and pats the bed, and Spock sits close enough their knees brush when their legs relax. He puts his shoulder against Jim’s to give better access to the PADD screen, and their elbows brush skin-to-skin for a second and Jim catches a flash of contentment and worry mingled together. It only lasts a second.

Spock adjusts his position, then opens the screen and Jim immediately recognizes Amanda and Sarek. It’s a casual photo, Sarek looking as severe as ever if you don’t know what to look for. Only Jim’s known a Vulcan intimately for several years now, so he sees the softness in Sarek’s eyes, sees the relax in his shoulders as he stands with his wife.

“This was two years before I was born,” Spock says. He swipes the screen, and in the next is what looks like a professional portrait of Amanda, holding a small infant which must be Spock. Next to her is a small, dark-skinned girl with wide, human eyes, curved human ears, and hair flattened and shaped into the severe Vulcan style. There’s humanity in her, but a lot of Vulcan as well. “I was two weeks old.”

There are a few more casual photos, mostly of Michael holding Spock, baby Spock with his mother, with both parents, of Michael alone.

“They didn’t want anymore kids?” Jim asks unthinkingly. He brushes his fingers across a photo with baby Spock smiling at his grinning mother, and he sort of sees why Spock would keep these so, intensely private.

Spock looks at him, a brow raised. “I do not believe that desire factored in.”

Jim frowns. “Well I mean…you know. Pon farr…they could have…”

“Vulcans and humans cannot procreate naturally,” Spock says, his voice still soft. “It took a great deal of genetic interference to create me. I was, as the humans are so inclined to say, born in a lab.”

That hits Jim almost like a blow to the chest because he’s never asked. He just sort of…assumed. “Oh,” is about all he can muster.

Spock sighs and looks back down at the photo. “The anomaly was less that my father married a human, and more that the creation of myself was not natural, and that in spite of additional attempts, I was the only one to survive into adulthood.”

That startles Jim even worse. “You’re the only one.”

Spock nods once. “Two further attempts were made, but the emotional distress it caused my mother was enough that my father ceased the program. They were both satisfied.”

Jim swallows back the ten thousand questions he’s got, and the urge to rip the PADD from Spock’s hands and pin him down and kiss him and tell him that he was special before, but now Jim knows that he’s unique, that he’s the only one in the entire Universe and for that should be protected and treasured. Spock will not appreciate that, though, already doesn’t appreciate the way that others look at him with sadness and pity because Vulcans are now an endangered species.

And it seems Spock has always been one.

“We should get some sleep,” is what Jim eventually says. “Tomorrow seems like it’s going to be a long day.”

“While there will be no change in the Terran passage of time, and while I will not feel it differently, I understand the sentiment Jim, and must agree. Rest is necessary.” Spock pushes himself up, but Jim manages to catch him by the wrist. As he squeezes, Spock turns slowly and looks at him.

“If you need anything…”

Spock merely nods once, and when he pulls his hand away from Jim’s, it’s not a rough movement.

~*~ 

Jim checks and double checks the address on the PADD to the one on the outside of the door, and he gives Spock a curious look. “Internal affairs. Was that in the message?”

Spock gives a negative shake of his head. “It was not. Only rank and name. Captain Saurabh Bakshi. I only assumed.”

“Well. This changes things,” Jim says, because it does. Internal affairs _might_ report the death of a Starfleet officer, but only if there’s something suspicious surrounding it. However a visit to or from Internal Affairs isn’t ever a good thing, at least not in his experience, so he doesn’t let his guard drop as their presence is alerted by the Ensign at the front desk.

It’s not long before a man steps out—greying hair at his temples which leads into rich, thick black hair. The only thing about his face betraying his age are the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the slight salt and pepper in his thick brows. He eyes the both of them, his gaze pausing on Jim with some suspicion before he beckons them into his office.

“Commander Spock,” he says as the door shuts, “I understand that Vulcan privacy is heavily guarded, and what we are to discuss is a highly personal matter regarding your family. So if you would prefer to have this conversation alone…”

“That will be unnecessary Captain Bakshi,” Spock says smoothly, taking an almost unconscious step closer to Jim. “Captain Kirk and I are currently sharing a residence, and as such it is likely he will learn this information. It would be much preferable to me that he learn it directly from the source to avoid any mistranslations.”

Bakshi looks at them both coolly for a moment, a look on his face that tells Jim he assumes there is more than just housemates going on between them, and Jim’s in no hurry to disabuse him of that notion. “Have a seat, then.”

Jim turns toward the two chairs across from the Captain’s desk, but as he takes a step toward them, he notices it. A small child carrier in the corner of the room holding a tiny, wrapped bundle. “You…have a baby. They let you bring your baby to work?” he blurts.

Bakshi sits down before answering. “Extenuating circumstances,” he says with a brush-off. “Commander Spock, I have a few questions I would like to ask you regarding the last time you spoke with your sister.”

Spock, at least as far as Jim can tell, looks startled. His eyebrows lift just a fraction, and the corners of his mouth tighten. “That was quite a long time ago, Captain. Just before she was tried for mutiny. I’m not sure any information I have from that conversation would be pertinent in whatever investigation you are currently…”

Before Spock can finish, the small baby in the carrier gives a huge wail, and begins to flail their small fists against the swaddled blankets. Jim feels his heart lurch, a strange, unspeakable urge to gather the child to him. He looks up at Bakshi. “I could help, if you’d like. I’m pretty good with kids.”

“Affirmative. At the height of our crew, we had no less than nine infants on board, and Captain Kirk spent a considerable amount of time bonding with each child,” Spock says.

Jim startles, though he’s not sure why he should be surprised Spock noticed how often he spent free time in the nursery. He’s never been entirely sure he wants kids, but he likes them. He likes the idea that these small, helpless things will grow up and change societies and worlds, and the power behind that idea is consuming and kind of wonderful.

“Go ahead,” Bakshi says, and Jim does find it a little strange that the Captain would let an all-but stranger take up his child. Not that Jim’s reputation for being a good Captain and a good man—and sort of a hero, but he hates that bit—doesn’t precede him, but still. Strange.

All the same, he doesn’t hesitate to pull the carrier to him and unbuckle the straps. The child is very small, very young, wrapped in pink and yellow striped blankets that look hospital issued. There’s a small yellow cap covering the baby’s head, but he can see the little spots of newborn acne still dotting the baby’s face, and the hands are small but strong as they grasp for Jim.

When Jim makes contact with the baby, he feels an inexplicable pulse of starvation—for food and touch, and he notes it the way the baby nuzzles closer, and opens their small mouth, searching. 

Before Jim can ask, Bakshi is passing over a bottle, and the child takes it hungrily. “What’s the gender?”

“Girl,” Bakshi says absently. He doesn’t even spare the child a glance, really. “She’s half Betazoid, so whatever you’re feeling is due to that.”

“I didn’t know Betazoid-human marriages were legal,” Jim blurts.

Bakshi gives him a slow look, then says, “They’re not.”

Extenuating circumstances indeed. Jim looks back down at the child, and barely hears that Spock and Bakshi have gotten back to the conversation. He’s profoundly aware that Spock is watching him, but he doesn’t care right then.

He looks down at the baby, notes that although her skin tone is close to her father’s, it’s darker brown with red undertones, and he can’t see her hair under the cap, but he can definitely see the Betazoid-black in her eyes—intense, no way to tell pupil from iris. She locks eyes with him, and he feels serenity and contentment which makes him smile.

It’s enough to soothe his nerves and he turns his attention back to the conversation.

“…lost communications a week ago. The pod we picked up had two things. A holovid with her instructions, and the child.”

Both Jim and Spock go rigid with surprise, and it hits Jim that he’s not holding Bakshi’s child at all.

“We had a DNA scan performed, and it is confirmed the child does belong to Lieutenant Burnham,” Bakshi says.

Spock looks over, very slowly, at the child in Jim’s arms. “And the holovid?” he asks. There’s a barely-there tremor in his voice.

Bakshi reaches over to push a button on his projector, and the image of Michael appears in the center of his desk. She looks terrified, and exhausted as she brings a shaking hand up to her forehead.

“I have no other choice but to leave Ania in the pod. They’re coming at me faster than I can outrun them, and I can’t go with her. Not yet. I’ve programmed the pod to reach the USS Farragut-D, which is less than two parsecs away, and have sent a distress signal. Life support will last a standard Terran week if necessary. It’s my request that, should he be planet-side, my child be returned to earth and left in the care of my brother, Commander S’chn T’gai Spock. If this is not a possibility, then last resort, please contact my foster father Sarek on New Vulcan.” There’s a noise, and Michael looks up at something they can’t see on screen. She swears in Vulcan, and the transmission cuts off.

Spock sits back in his seat, face as impassive as ever, but Jim knows better than to assume there’s nothing going on in his head.

Ania, content in his arms, gives a little burp and when Jim pulls the bottle away, she settles in contently and closes her eyes. He can feel the warmth and affection—raw in its nature—pouring into him. He remembers that Betazoids are telepaths too, but don’t require skin-to-skin contact. He holds her a little closer, a little more protectively.

“We have multiple vessels searching for her, but we have no idea of her destination, or why she abandoned her ship.” Bakshi looks at the child, then at Jim, and finally at Spock. “The care of the child will go to you, Commander Spock, should you accept it. If not, we will, with the best of our abilities, attempt to get the child to New Vulcan.”

“That would be unwise,” Spock says. “New Vulcan is establishing itself, but is still dealing with the trauma of loss. A child such as a Betazoid with both telepathic and empathic abilities would not thrive there. My father no longer feels much familial obligation toward Lieutenant Burnham as his loyalties remain with rebuilding the Vulcan race and she is human. Therefore, he would likely not take possession of the child off-world. It is only logical, now that I am earth-bound, that I take the responsibility on myself.”

Jim isn’t surprised by that. It’s Spock, and he always does the logical thing. But he can’t tell if there’s anything else behind it—any emotion or sense of familial obligation he’s just accused his father of not having. He tries to meet Spock’s gaze, but Spock won’t look at him.

“Very well,” Bakshi says. He hands a PADD to Spock, and a few moments later, whatever form was on there was signed, and the deed is done.

Spock has a child now.

_Holy shit, Spock has a child now!_

Jim holds her a little closer.

“You understand this binds you to earth until Lieutenant Burnham can be found and reunited with her child,” Bakshi says.

“I am aware of the conditions, yes.”

“Any Starfleet assignments will be postponed until that occurs, or until a permanent custodial arrangement is arranged.”

Spock nods. “Affirmative.”

Jim’s eyes widen when he realizes what this means. Spock just grounded himself indefinitely. He panics ad blurts out, “Can you add me to that thing too?”

Both Bakshi and Spock look at him, one more incredulous than the other, though Jim can _feel_ Spock’s confusion radiating off of him. It’s enough that even the small baby lets out a disturbed grunt. Jim tries to push a wave of care and contentment at her, and she settles.

“Parenting is easier with two, and it’s already going to be complicated because she’s half Betazoid. It’ll be difficult for Spock to arrange childcare for a species who has not spent a lot of time on earth, right? But he’ll still need to provide for the child. It only makes sense, considering he and I are currently living together, that we enter into this arrangement as a couple.”

Spock is still staring, but Bakshi huffs. “The two of you have entered into no legal bond…”

“Yes,” Jim blurts. “I mean. Well…no. But we can. I mean, I always thought we’d…” He clears his throat. “What do I have to do?”

Bakshi huffs. “Considering your standing with the Federation, Captain, I’m sure they will be willing to make special considerations regarding your request. Provided that the two of you enter into some sort of legal arrangement in a reasonable amount of time. For now, we can add you as a temporary foster guardian along with Commander Spock.”

“Jim,” Spock says quietly.

Jim shakes his head. “Let me…”

“You do not wish to be grounded for however long this will take,” Spock says insistently.

Jim holds the baby a little tighter and turns, finally meeting Spock’s gaze. “Are you telling me you don’t want my help?”

“That is not what I mean to imply,” Spock concedes.

Jim gives him a nod. “Then let me. I know what I’m getting into, Spock. And there’s no way in hell you’re doing this alone.” Because Spock is alone, but so is Jim. And in truth, the prospect of leaving earth on another mission without Spock makes space seem too vast and too empty. And after this long he simply knows he can’t do it without Spock there by his side.

The PADD is pushed across the desk, and Jim manages his thumbprint signature a little awkwardly with the baby, but it takes. The form beeps as it’s submitted and then it’s done. Jim is grounded along with Spock.

Jim and Spock are also parents now, for however long.

Oh my god. Jim and Spock are also parents now.

He looks down at the baby and thinks quietly to himself, _what the fuck have we done?_

Ania shifts in her sleep, a gas bubble tickles her stomach, and she grins.


	2. Chapter 2

They leave with one small satchel of things—some which were found with the child on the pod, and the other procured in the week they had her in quarantine. Her birth information was recorded on the ship’s log, but never entered into the Federation database. She carries a Betazoid name, however. Ania Grax, no middle name, and there was no record of a Betazoid man carrying the name Grax who was in a relationship with a human—or with any Starfleet connections.

The only one who knows where the child came from is Michael.

Jim sits with the baby on the living room couch. He’s sideways with his back against the arm, his knees crooked up slightly so his thighs sit at an angle and Ania is cradled against them. She’s very small, well fed but still so young with almost no muscle control. Jim stares at her, and she stares right back at him, and he can feel her pulsing with contentment and something like relief, which he takes to mean that she wasn’t particularly cared for, even if her basic needs had been met in the week she was on Earth.

“Can you feel that?” Jim eventually asks Spock.

Spock is in the living room with them, but he’s yet to sit down, and yet to really look at the child. His hands are clasped behind his back, and he’s staring out the window. “If you are referring to the excess emotion the child is omitting, then yes. Betazoid children are notoriously out of control when it comes to projecting their telepathic and empathic abilities.”

“Wonder what she feels from you.”

Spock turns and glances at her before looking at Jim. “Likely very little. She is not strong enough to break through my mental shields at this time, and she is only half Betazoid so it is likely she will never reach the full strength had she not been part human.”

Jim hums, and rubs the tip of his finger down her cheek a few times. With each stroke down, her eyes blink, slower and slower until she’s nearly drowsing. “She’s like you.”

“She might be of my sister, but there is no Vulcan blood in her,” Spock says, almost defensive.

Jim scoffs. “I meant she’s half human. Like you. And kind of without a home.” Jim leans his head back against the cushion and looks over at Spock. “Do you not want me here?”

Spock raises a confused brow. “I do not understand.”

“You just uh…fought me pretty hard back there,” Jim said. “I kind of pushed, and I realized I might be over-stepping. I mean, this is your family, and I’m not so…”

Spock takes three steps toward Jim before he stops himself. “As on Vulcan, humans have more than one meaning for family. Some are by blood, others are chosen. I feel it would be fair to consider you the latter, Jim. My concern is simply that there is no logical reason for you to put your career on hold simply because I have entered into a situation which takes that choice away from me.”

Jim winces a little because he knows how important choice is to Spock. Just as it’s important to him. “I don’t want you to be alone. And I’m really good with kids.”

“I have…observed,” Spock says quietly.

Jim scoffs a little playfully as he adjusted his legs down lower so the baby’s mostly laying flat in the dip between his thighs. He touches her skin, but she feels warm enough, and he realizes he doesn’t know much of anything about Betazoid biology. They stopped at Betazed only three times in the five years they were in space, and each time was less than two hours to meet with diplomats about treaties. He learned only that the Betazoids were truthful to the point of almost cruelty, and that on planet, they rarely spoke aloud so whatever their earlier spoken language was, it had long-since died off. It was Earth-like, however, and they shared far more alleles with humans than Vulcans did. Which, he supposes, is why Michael’s pregnancy was even possible.

“You know there are other options, right?” Jim says after a while.

Spock blinks at him for a moment. “If you are referring to the system which takes in unwanted children…”

Jim winces because yeah…yeah he had his own brush with foster care thanks to Frank and…and everything. He’d never condemn a child to that. Even if Tarsus wouldn’t happen ever again.

“It is illogical that this child be given to a system which would not provide a familial connection for the child. As she is Betazoid, that will become very important to her, and it was not my wish for her to fail to thrive.”

“And your dad really wouldn’t have bothered?”

Spock sighs—a rare thing. “My father’s relationship with Michael became strained after the conviction, though they attempted to repair their relationship. But her conflict with her human side proved enough that although they will always remain bonded, his regard for her diminished.”

“Sounds familiar,” Jim says, just a fraction of bitterness because he’s always thought Spock deserved far better than Sarek ever gave him.

Spock looks at the child again, then closes the distance so that he can lay a hand on the top of her head which is still covered by the warm cap. “My father also deals with his own regrets, and his own conflicts. I will, of course, do my duty and inform him of my acquisition of Michael’s child.”

Jim can’t help but grin. “Gonna ask for parenting tips?”

“As my father was not adept at raising a human, nor a half-human Vulcan, I do not believe his advice will benefit us in any way. However it may be his wish to see the child, and that is something I would not deny him.” Spock steps away and clasps his hands behind his back again.

Jim shifts. “Do you want to hold her?” He hasn’t said anything about the fact that Spock hasn’t picked her up yet, but he’s still profoundly aware of it.

For his part, Spock looks like a deer caught in headlights for a moment, then he takes another step back. “I do not wish to disturb her. Though if you feel you need rest from the burden of carrying a child, we can arrange for some bedding to…”

“It’s fine,” Jim says with a smile, then he puts his hand on her chest. There’s something so soothing about feeling a baby breathe in their sleep, and the contentment pouring off of her almost makes him want to curl up and drop off too. “I’ve got her. Go call your dad.”

Spock nods, turns to go, but stops. “I feel it is my duty to remind you, Jim, that this child is not ours to keep. Eventually they will find my sister. And if they do not, more suitable arrangements for her care will have to be made.” He pauses, then turns his head to look at Jim. “You cannot put your life on hold for this.”

“Go call your dad, Commander,” Jim orders, and he pointedly doesn’t let the baby go.

~*~ 

By the next morning, it becomes glaringly obvious they have almost nothing they need for the child. Apart from Ania sleeping only two hours at a time, requiring multiple feeding, rocking, and diaper changes, the moment she unleashes a torrent of not-quite-digested formula all over her very last clean onesie tells Jim this isn’t going to work.

“We’re going out,” Jim says, poking his head around Spock’s door. He has the baby’s head resting against his shoulder, fast asleep, and he figures now or never—they don’t have much choice. “She needs about a hundred things.”

Spock opens his mouth as if to protest, then looks resigned and pushes up from his meditation mat. Jim turns and heads to toe on his own shoes, and by the time he’s grabbing his lock fob for the front door, Spock is ready to go. He’s dressed in a heavy wool sweater and thick pants, to combat the too-wet, too chilly bay air of San Francisco, and Jim finds the look on him so endearing it hurts, even after all this time.

Ania is bundled in her blanket and hat, a fresh diaper keeping her soothed as Jim straps her into her carry seat, and leads the way to their aircar. Spock doesn’t protest when Jim gets into the control seat, and punches in the coordinates for the nearest place with baby supplies.

“Okay, so she’s going to need somewhere to sleep,” Jim says, adjusting the controls before counting off the list on his fingers. “A ton of formula and bottles, and probably one of those sanitizer things they had on the ship. That one nanny I liked…that Orion woman, what was her name?”

“Marta,” Spock supplies in a subdued tone.

“Right, yeah. Anyway she said we can use the replicator for formula—she could probably comm me a code for it. But she said it’s not as good, you know? And we need something good. She’s also going to need toys and clothes, shit to stimulate her brain development, you know? Lights and sounds and…”

“Jim,” Spock says quietly, and Jim’s jaw snaps shut. “I do not wish to put a damper on your enthusiasm, but we must take care to remember we may not have her for long. She is approximately two weeks and three days old, which means that her mother could not have gone too far, even at the fastest warp speed.”

“Yeah, unless she had any of that crazy fungus ship stuff left,” Jim mutters, and Spock gives him a dark look. “I’m just saying…”

“I appreciate your desire to provide,” Spock says, and sounds like he well and truly means it. “It gives me pleasure to know you care. But I do not wish to be wasteful if we are only to have her a short time.”

“Well,” Jim says, and waves his hand dismissively as the car turns into the parking lot and finds a spot marked for cars with babies, “if anything, Michael can take stuff with her, right? Or…you know, whoever takes her.” The thought feels strangely hollow in his chest though, so he pushes it away. “She’s a person, Spock, who got abandoned on an escape pod. She’s a half-Betazoid who thrives on contact and emotion, and she was left in medbay for a week being poked and prodded. When I held her that first day, she was so touch-starved, I could barely breathe.”

“It is…difficult to understand, even with my dualistic nature,” Spock confesses as the car comes to a stop and turns off. “But you are right, and I will endeavor to understand the cultural differences of both need and want.”

Jim gives him a tight-lipped smile. “She’s your niece. I think it would be good if you had some relationship with her. You and I are both horribly short on family, so seems a little ridiculous to squander them when they fall right into our laps.”

Spock considers this, but chooses to say nothing. 

They exit the car, and Spock surprises Jim by reaching into the back and removing Ania from her seat. He cradles her to his chest carefully, but in a way that’s practiced which actually _does_ surprise Jim, since he doesn’t think he’s seen Spock interact with a child ever. At least, not willingly, and not for any extended period of time. All the same, he’s not about to interfere with what’s happening now, and quickly grabs the buggy the moment they step inside. It hovers a few inches off the ground and is receptive to the barest touch, so Jim guides it with a few pushes as they get right to the baby aisles.

It’s a little overwhelming, all the shit they have for babies. Huge mobiles with blacks and whites and reds and flashing lights and songs. Cribs that hover near parents’ beds, and cradles that self-rock and play soothing ocean tones. Jim starts to load up what they need first—self-cleaning, self-sanitizing bottles, and an extra sanitizer just in case. He grabs four different shapes of binkeys that are all scented with things like lavender and vanilla which claim to help soothe and calm. He picks up more formula than she can probably ever eat, then pauses by the diapers because there are so many and he has no idea how to choose.

Shit. He’s so not cut out for this, he’s going to be the worst parent ever. He can’t even figure out what she needs which probably means he’s going to…

His thoughts cut off with a soothing push of comfort, and then he realizes Spock’s touching him on the side of the neck with the edge of his finger. “There’s a weight indicator on the side. And I can estimate, if I deduct the weight of her clothing and blankets, she is exactly one hundred and thirty-nine point two ounces. If we take into consideration two ounces of weight gain per week, we can safely buy these,” he points to a box with a brightly colored number one.

Jim breathes out, then grabs four boxes and shoves them into the bottom carry bin of the buggy. It bobs in the air for a second with the added weight, then steadies. Jim swipes a hand across his brow, then leans in and pushes his nose against Ania’s forehead. She’s still sleeping, but he gets a wave of her contentment which calms him even more.

“I’m scared I’m going to be the worst at this. I just…that week in medbay shouldn’t have happened. No kid should be alone like that.”

Spock grabs Jim’s shoulder. “Considering your history with abandonment, Jim, I understand your concern. But no lasting damage was done, and she will not be alone again.”

Jim breathes out, then smiles. “You’re right. Come on, let’s buy her ridiculous amounts of cute clothes.”

Jim does needed to be stopped after a while, Spock pointing out that she’ll end up growing out of all the things he wishes to buy her before she can ever wear them, so he sticks to the most practical things, though Spock does quirk a small smile when Jim finds little knitted booties that kind of look like Sehlats and nods for Jim to put them with the rest of the stuff.

Jim also buys a few light up toys, and a baby insert for the bath tub because he doesn’t think she’ll be adverse to water the way Spock is—especially if she’s from Betazed. Once he loads them up on soft soaps and lotions for her skin, Spock declares that it’s enough, and that if they’re not careful most of the stuff won’t fit into the aircar.

Jim doesn’t even look at the total when they check out, just grabs himself chocolate and waggles his eyebrows at Spock because he knows what chocolate does to the Vulcan. Spock shakes his head, then shifts Ania who is awake now, looking around with her big, bright, Betazoid eyes. They fix on Jim and she doesn’t smile, she’s too young for it. But he does feel a push of contentment and familiarity which means she hasn’t gone to sleep and forgotten all about him.

For whatever reason, that’s one of the most comforting things.

They get everything back to the apartment and Jim takes her for a feeding while Spock carefully assembles what they bought. A tiny, portable swing which hovers, and a little seat that has a vibration setting which the box claimed to sooth any trace of colic. Jim watches as Spock folds and puts her clothes away in his own room, which makes Jim squirm a little until he sees that Spock puts the portable crib in Jim’s room, right at the edge of the bed.

Jim doesn’t really know what to do with all that, so he just stands up and walks Ania to the window. She’s got both fists curled around the bottle and she’s eating like she doesn’t know where her next meal is coming from, but Jim doesn’t feel fear or loss in her anymore. He shifts her so she’s half reclined in the crook of his arm, and he points with his elbow. 

“This is my favorite view, ladybug. Well, my second favorite view. A couple of years ago we were taking a leisure trip to Regulus VII, and that brought us past the Horsehead Nebula. Your uncle Spock and I—we have a thing. Chess. I don’t even know how to explain it, but…anyway, it looks like a giant chess piece, so of course we had to drop out of warp so we could see it. We stood on the observation deck and let my baby—my ship, and you would have loved her, trust me, and she would have loved you—we let her hover there for a while and we just got to watch. Stars are born there, you know? In the nebulae. I think it’s fitting a little bright star like you was born out in space. Even if it was lonely.”

He tucks her in close, then feels another presence beside him. His head turns and he sees Spock there, watching carefully from only a foot away. “It was a good shore leave,” he says.

Jim closes his eyes for a long second and nods. It was a good shore leave. It was a shore leave with one of their many almosts. It was a shore leave where Spock had a sip of cocoa and Jim had a finger of brandy, and they stood on the balcony looking over one of the planet’s beaches and their fingers had brushed together on the railing and neither of them bothered to move.

They talked for hours, for days, Jim forgot to troll the bars for hook-ups, and when they returned to the ship he felt better and more rested than he ever had. And there was a glint in Spock’s eye the next Alpha shift when they took the bridge together that said, ‘Yes. That meant something to me, too.’

Jim had the ship take an image of the nebula and he kept it on his PADD. A memory of a lot of things.

“My father has received my message and wishes to come to earth to see the baby,” Spock says after a moment.

Jim feels a rush of irrational fear, holds Ania a little tighter like somehow the very idea of Sarek can rip her away. Spock touches his shoulder. “He agrees that New Vulcan would not be safe for her—not as an empath, not with all the grief and fear. He doesn’t wish to leave New Vulcan just yet, either. I believe he just wishes to know her.”

Jim breathes out. “Right. I mean, I guess it would solve our problems if he did agree to take her, right? Or if he knew someone who could?”

Spock just looks at him for a long moment. “I do not believe Michael had any remaining family, but perhaps my father has connections on Betazed who can track down the paternal family of the child.”

“That would be…” Jim coughs to clear a hitch in his breath, and a crack in his voice. “Yeah. I mean, that would be best. You and I weren’t meant to be grounded, were we?”

Spock just gives a considering hum, then brushes his fingers along Ania’s psi-points before turning toward the kitchen. Jim hears the replicator a few minutes later, then smells a burger. He smiles a little and turns to look down at Ania’s dark, bright eyes which are watching him intently. The bottle’s empty, so he pulls it away and shifts her in his arms for a better grip.

“You know, Ladybug, that Vulcan in there is stubborn, and impossible. But he’s also good, and kind, and I have never been cared for by anyone the way he cares for me. You’re very lucky to have him as an uncle. I hope wherever you go, you don’t go too far.” He knows Spock’s hearing probably picks all that up, but he can’t bring himself to feel regret over it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, Angst, Angst... angsty Jim is my weakness.
> 
> ngl, this fic is pretty self-indulgent angsty fluff for me, so if anything comes across as totally ooc regarding characters or universe, it's all 100% my fault. I'm just writing some h/c kid fluff to sate my little craving.

The bright red hair of the case worker starts to turn fuzzy, and Jim realizes that his eyes are going out of focus yet again. They’ve had Ania for exactly one month and three days, and Jim’s fairly sure in that entire month he’s gotten maybe sixty hours of sleep. It’s starting to become a problem, the delirium is setting in, but he’s still stubborn about it, resolved to not let Spock take all the nighttime feeds.

“I require less sleep than you, and simple meditation restores my ability to function and concentrate,” Spock always begins when Jim drags himself out of bed.

Jim just shakes his head and says, “That’s not how this partner thing works, Spock, and you know it.”

And that’s probably the sleep deprivation talking, too. He’s running on caffeine, and his stubborn need to control the situation because he will forever be Captain James T. Kirk no matter what situation he’s in, and no matter how much it nearly kills him.

The other thing not helping the situation presently is the fact that Ania is currently screaming her tiny head off, and has been for _hours_. No, days. No…weeks. Colic, is what all the research says, and Jim knows they should probably take her to a physician, but Bones is going to be in San Francisco soon and Jim is feeling so protective over the small child that he’s only willing to let someone he trusts with his life put hands on her.

It’s a struggle enough to watch this caseworker poke and prod at her as she wails from behind her tiny little binky, her cheeks darkened with a flush, her little hands curled into angry fists. It doesn’t help that her moods are being violently projected into the room, and not for the first time Jim envies Spock’s ability to shut out the waves of discomfort and pain and dissatisfaction.

“Well, apart from the colic, she’s healthy.” The woman writes something on her PADD, then pushes up from the floor and sits on the couch. Spock swoops in and cradles Ania to his chest, leaving the room, and the cries and the mood subsides a little. “How are the two of you faring? I know this must be easier for the Vulcan than for you.”

_The Vulcan_ , Jim wants to sneer at her, but he’s too tired for that fight. “It’s tough, but worth it. I think she’s doing better than she would be if she was in some medical facility.”

The woman just hums and marks something else down. “Have you received the most recent reports regarding the whereabouts of her mother?”

“You mean Bakshi’s message saying they still haven’t found jack shit?” Jim grumps, then sighs. “Trust me, we’re keeping up on every piece of news.”

She marks that down, then sets her PADD on her lap. “And it seems the two of you have yet to solidify your plans for bonding. You do realize the temporary foster order regarding you, Mr. Kirk, is valid for only sixty more days.”

Jim startles and realizes the lack of sleep caused him to forget about that little piece of information, too. “Uh…”

“Jim and I have been quite occupied in our adjustment to child-rearing,” comes Spock’s voice, like a soothing, logical balm. “The child also complicates the bonding process, as it would usually be carried out on New Vulcan with the High Counsel, however seeing as the child cannot be parted from us, but also cannot travel to New Vulcan, we have been forced to consider alternate arrangements.”

“Well you do know a human marriage would work just as well. I don’t want to be insensitive to your culture or anything, Mr. Spock,” she adds, though she doesn’t sound genuine about it, and Jim bristles.

Spock, however, merely shakes his head as he gently bounces Ania who has finally, for the moment, calmed down. “I do not find it insensitive, as I am both human and Vulcan, though I did wish to participate in a Vulcan ceremony, as we are so few now, it seems illogical to ignore tradition. My father will be joining us shortly, and we will discuss our options then. Rest assured the legal matters will be attended to before the order expires.”

She seems vaguely satisfied by that. “I’ll be back in two weeks to check on progress. You have my comm if you need anything.” She puts her PADD in her shining red bag, snaps it with a loud click, and then shows herself out.

The moment she’s gone, Jim throws his head back on the couch and groans. “God, what a bitch.”

“She is merely performing the duties of her job, Jim,” Spock says, and walks closer so the side of his leg brushes against Jim’s knee. “And I do wish to insist—yet again—that you allow me to oversee more frequent nighttime responsibilities so you can sleep. You are functioning forty-two point six percent below optimum standards for your body, and it will only get worse. You cannot be an effective parent if you cannot function.”

Jim wants to argue more, wants to prove that he could do this even on his own. His mother did. His mother had a screaming newborn and in her crushing grief still managed to keep him alive and well. But he’s not grieving, and he’s not alone. And Spock _is_ right in the fact that he needs less sleep.

With a sigh, he pushes himself up and leans in to press a soft kiss to Ania’s forehead. “Alright, Ladybug, you be good for Uncle Spock, and Uncle Jim is going to take a long nap.”

Spock seems relieved at this, letting it shine through his eyes as he locks gazes with Jim.

“You get me up if you need anything,” Jim says.

“While I understand that statement is only to soothe your own nerves, rest assured that I am perfectly capable of taking care of her. And should I need assistance, I would not hesitate in waking you, even if you had not informed me to do so.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jim says, and he’s so sleepy he doesn’t think twice about putting his hand on Spock’s cheek and leaning in to kiss his forehead. He freezes, eyes huge like a deer in headlights, and he pulls back molasses slow. “Uh…”

Spock recovers much faster, and he gives Jim a nod, his eyes full of heat and purpose. “Go get sleep, Jim,” is all he says.

It’s an out, and considering how exhausted Jim is right then, he takes it.

~*~ 

Jim comes to hours later, feeling that pressing, surreal feeling that comes with sleeping in the middle of the day. He scrubs at his face, then fumbles for a glass of water which has been beside his bed for a few days now. It’s stale, but does the job in waking him up a little better.

The apartment is fairly quiet, which either means Spock took Ania out for a drive—one of the few things that calms her—or she’s finally starting to move past the whole screaming colic thing. She’s really done little besides, eat, dirty diapers, sleep, and cry, so the silence is somewhat disconcerting.

Jim rises, stretches, knows he should probably at least hop in the sonic refresher, but opts for some clean sweat pants and a t-shirt instead. The polished wood feels good under his feet, and he shuffles into the living room where he promptly freezes, his mouth hanging slightly open.

There’s a lot of strange, compromising positions he’s seen his First Officer and best friend in over the years, but never in his life did he expect this. Spock lying on his front propped up over a small baby girl, pulling faces at her. And of course they were Vulcan faces, hardly more expressive than pursed lips and a raised brow, but the even bigger surprise was that Ania was _smiling_ at them. She would suck hard on her binky, and Spock would raise a brow, and her lips would stretch to the sides so far, the binky would fall out. Spock would replace it, and it would happen again.

Jim watches it happen four more times before he clears his throat, and Spock’s gaze snaps over, his cheeks darkening green with a blush. “It seems she’s reached the milestone of smiling.”

“I can’t believe I missed her first smile,” Jim bemoans, not wanting to acknowledge the way it makes him feel to know that Spock has been laying her _playing with a baby_. His insides are made of plomeek mush at the moment, he’s pretty sure. He reached out and tickles her under her chin, and Ania looks over, grinning so wide again, her binky falls out.

Jim snatches it from the floor and holds it over her face. “This what you want, Ladybug?”

She smiles again, and he bops her nose with it once—then twice—and suddenly she laughs. It’s a sudden, small thing, but Jim’s eyes tear to Spock. “Has she…”

“Laughed before?” Spock asks, and shakes his head, his own smile threatening the corners of his mouth. “I believe you did not miss that first, Jim.”

Jim sweeps her into his arms and kisses her face. “My brilliant little girl. Little genius, aren’t you?” As he sits back, he realizes how much he has to lose, and the pain of it is almost enough to steal his breath away. Glancing over, he sees Spock’s face, and can see the look in his eyes and he knows then, he’s not the only one who’s feeling it.

~*~ 

Sarek arrives just in time for Ania to catch her first human cold. Jim panics at the rising temperature, and how Bones is still a few days away. But he’s assured on comm that he just needs to keep her hydrated, to administer drops of fever reducer, and if all else fails, “Just let the little bean lay on you, skin-to-skin. Trust me, works every time. Joanna had croup and it was the only thing that calmed her down.”

Sarek, luckily, is staying at the embassy so he’s not around to see Jim sprawled out on the couch, shirtless, with the small, whimpering baby lying against him. The couch is turned toward the window, and it’s a clear night so with all the lights out in the apartment, Jim can see the vast sea of stars stretching out before them. It hadn’t been like that before, not until San Francisco was declared a Dark Skies City, and most of the evening lights were extinguished.

Being able to see into space is one of the things that makes being grounded bearable. He rests a hand on her lower back and sighs as he can feel Ania’s body temperature finally, _finally_ starting to match his own.

“You have been vigilant, but you need your rest, Jim,” comes Spock’s voice from the door.

Jim tilts his head back and sees Spock standing there in silken pajama pants and a closed robe. “I just got her down, and I think her fever finally broke, but I’m afraid to let her go in case it goes back up again.”

“It is along the timeline for the symptoms of the virus to begin easing,” Spock says as he walks up and drops a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “And as a Vulcan, I am capable of adjusting my body temperature to adhere to both yours and hers. So if you will allow me…” He reaches to his middle and draws the tie away, revealing a bare chest.

Jim has seen him shirtless before—a handful of times, though the shirtless usually is accompanied by gaping, green-bleeding wounds from some random First Contact encounter gone very very wrong. Now his skin is smooth, the pale white-green from his Vulcan heritage, with the heavy, black hair sprinkled across his pecs and down toward his stomach.

Jim fights back the urge to reach out and draw his fingers through it, instead curling his hand into a fist. “I really don’t mind.”

“Yes, but you will not appreciate if your body, so under rested, becomes unable to fight off the virus yourself. I have meditated and do not need further sleep.”

Jim has no choice but to acquiesce, and he hands Ania over, watching carefully as Spock settles himself in a reclined position. He winces only once, as Ania’s little hand curls into his chest hair and tugs, and Jim has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Instead he reaches over and eases his thumb under Ania’s little fist, uncurling her fingers.

“There we go,” Jim murmurs, and leans down to kiss her head. He makes a very conscious decision to do the same to Spock, who this time—seems to anticipate it. Spock turns his head just slightly into the kiss, and his eyes close for a second.

Warmth floods though Jim, and for only a moment he allows himself the short fantasy of thinking about this as his family instead of a temporary bump in the road.

“My father will be joining us after breakfast. He believes he has some information regarding Ania’s parentage.”

Jim’s throat feels tight at that, but he nods because what else can he do. “Yeah. Okay. I should uh…I should get some sleep.” Spock nods at that, and Jim starts to back out of the room, but he freezes when he sees Spock’s head dip low, his nose brushing against the top of Ania’s curls.

She whimpers and fusses for a second, and he soothes her with a hand on her back. “Hush. You are not alone.” 

With his heart his throat, Jim hurries out of the room, and to his own bed.

~*~ 

Ania’s asleep in her swing—finally feeling rested, curled in her footie pajamas with a blue binky hanging from her mouth—when Sarek finally arrives. Spock is in the back room, so Jim quickly answers the door, and holds up the ta’al at the sight of the Ambassador.

“T'nar pak sorat y'rani,” Jim says, hoping he hasn’t butchered the pronunciation.

Sarek gives him a slow nod of approval as he raises his own salute. “T'nar jaral.” He steps in as Jim shuts the door, and Jim notes he deliberately does not look at the sleeping baby in the swing. “I apologize that I was not able to come sooner.”

“It was probably better. Ania’s just getting over a virus, and Spock and I have spent the last three days just holding her.”

Sarek raises a brow, as though he has trouble believing Spock is capable of doing that, but he doesn’t say it. Still, it makes Jim bristle, even as Sarek finally walks into the living room and eyes the child.

After what feels like an eternity, Sarek takes the chair furthest from the swing. “She does resemble Michael a great deal. I was present for Michael’s birth.”

Jim, who still knows very little about Michael, is startled by that—mostly because it’s hard to imagine Sarek having actual friends he was close enough to to be present for the birth of their child. “Well, she’s a great baby, honestly. I mean, we only ever had a couple on the ship, but she’s a lot quieter than they are.”

“I would suggest giving her time. She is, after all, quite young.” Sarek finally looks over at her again, and if Jim’s not mistaken, there’s something almost wistful in his eyes. He wonders that even though they’re clinging to their culture and their heritage since so much was lost, if Sarek is maybe letting himself feel a little after the loss of his wife. “Spock most definitely had his moments.”

Jim was glad he didn’t have a drink in his mouth, because he would have choked on it. “Really? God, I can’t even imagine.”

Sarek raises a brow, and this time Jim definitely sees amusement. “Vulcan children are born with a preemptive ability to control emotion, but it is…not entirely natural. Adding his human heritage to that, and I found he was a rather…outspoken infant.”

“So he cried all the time,” Jim translates.

Sarek hums. “He laughed quite early on. His humor didn’t last long, but his mother appreciated it.”

Jim sees movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turns to find Spock there. There’s no indication on his face of what he’s feeling, but Jim can only imagine inside the emotions are raging. Spock has been able to control them most of the time, but he notes that when they’re alone in their space, like a bubble between them and the rest of the world, Spock lets his human side out more and more. 

With Sarek there, of course Spock is stoic as ever, hands behind his back, only an eyebrow up to indicate he had heard what Sarek said about him as a baby, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He merely offers his father the ta’al, then takes the empty seat on the couch.

“Were you able to contact the Ambassador for Betazed?”

Sarek nods once. “Indeed, he has agreed to undertake the assignment, but he has made it quite clear that should the child’s family not wish to take on the burden, they will not recognize paternity nor Betazoid birth.”

Jim feels a sort of anger bubbling in his gut, and his hands curl into fists. “So they’re just going to pretend like this kid doesn’t exist?”

“It is their way,” Sarek says. “They are a protective culture, and they find human deceit…distasteful.”

Jim’s cheeks are hot, but he forces himself to calm down. If that’s the way of them, maybe it’s better off that Ania is raised here, he thinks. “So then what?”

“She cannot come to Vulcan with me,” Sarek says after a long moment.

“We have been made aware of the dangers to an empath,” Spock replies swiftly. “And it would be much preferable that she is protected from those dangers.”

Sarek lets out the smallest sigh, so quiet Jim’s not entirely sure he heard it. “And then what? The system?”

Spock looks at him carefully. “It is illogical to consider staying, Jim. You would not be satisfied grounding yourself simply to parent a child which could be taken from you at the return of my sister.”

Jim feels his face go even hotter, and he can’t meet Spock’s gaze. “Look, we don’t even know where Michael is, and Ania’s bonded to us. We can’t just dump her off with some random family!”

“The only alternative is to adopt her, but without Michael’s consent,” Spock says, very carefully, “at best we would be awarded guardianship, and that is not enough to petition to allow the child on a ship.”

“I mean, I don’t even have a ship right now,” Jim says, slightly petulant. “Anyway, aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves here? There’s still a chance her father wants her.” He doesn’t admit that even that kills him inside. Betazed is so far, and Jim is so, so attached. But right now, he wants to think about anything other than foster care, and what it might mean for Ania.

“This is true, though with the surrounding circumstances regarding the child’s birth, the chances of her being accepted on Betazed is less than point four-six percent,” Sarek says. “It is therefore only logical that you begin to consider you other alternatives.”

Jim stands, nodding. “Yeah. Okay. I mean, she’s not even my family anyway, so it’s probably better the two of you handle this. I’m uh…I’m going to go comm Bones and get his ETA, then go shopping. We need a couple of things.” He turns and hurries out, and he swears he hears Spock call his name, but right now, he just can’t make himself go back.

It’s all just far, far too much.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, playing fast and loose with canon, especially regarding Betazoid culture since we know some, but not anything nearly as intricate as the Vulcans, so take this all with a grain of salt.

“…and the students are okay, though at this point I’m checking my comm every day for an assignment alert.” Nyota sips her coffee, then smiles over the table at Jim. “And I know for a fact you didn’t invite me out here to listen to me bitch about the cadets, Jim. So seriously, what is it?”

Dragging a hand down his face, Jim rolls his eyes to the ceiling and blurts out, “Do you think I’d be a terrible parent.”

Whatever Nyota might be expecting, it’s obviously not that because she chokes on her next sip of coffee and grapples for one of the paper napkins sitting at the edge of the table. She’s composed before he looks over at her, though her eyes are shining with amusement. “You and Spock finally get over whatever the hell you two had going on and tie the knot or what?”

Jim feels his cheeks burn with a faint blush. “Yeah, you know perfectly well Spock and I aren’t…I mean, come on that’s…”

“Jim,” she says, and there’s a slight harshness to her tone that he can’t really begrudge her because he knew he was the catalyst for the beginning of the end of her and Spock. “Are we really going to play this game?”

“I don’t know what—” he begins, but he stops at her sharp look.

“He felt his mother die, his entire planet die, Pike. He chose to stop feeling all of those times, and the only thing that ever escaped when he lost control was anger. Until you.”

Jim swallows thickly, but says nothing.

“If his mother were alive, she’d probably be able to count the number of times Spock has cried outside of infancy on one hand, and one of those fingers, Jim, counts for him watching you die. And whether or not you two have pulled your heads out of your collective asses and gotten over whatever you think you need to get over to be happy, it doesn’t negate what you two are to each other.”

Jim doesn’t tell her about all the _moments_ because really, he doesn’t need to. “We have a baby. Well…we’ve temporarily acquired a baby through uh…extenuating circumstances.” He’s not sure what he should say since the issue with Michael is probably fairly classified. He didn’t exactly read over the documents he signed very thoroughly. “It’s complicated, I can’t go into too much. But we…we have her.”

“And you’re attached.”

“They want us to bond. Or get married,” Jim says. “In order for me to be able to stay here until it’s all sorted out. They want me and Spock to be a regular couple or whatever outdated requirements they have for parents these days.”

Nyota sighs. “So what are you saying?”

“Spock doesn’t seem interested, and he thinks if I stay with him for however the hell long this is going to take, that I’m going to resent the situation because I’d rather be on a ship.”

She looks at him very carefully and there’s a sort of challenge in her voice when she asks, “Would you rather be on a ship, Jim?”

He drags both hands down his face with a loud groan, then lets his head fall backward. “Yes. Obviously. I’m not going to pretend like I love being grounded here. But I also want this.” He sits up. “And I don’t want to go without him. I didn’t come back from the damn dead to leave him here with a kid all on his own.”

“And your attachment to the kid?”

He swallows thickly as he reaches for his drink, but it’s tepid now, and unpleasant. “I think I’m falling in love with her. Like in that parent way, you know?”

“Yeah, you didn’t need to clarify,” she says with a small laugh. “Do you have any pictures?”

And well, he’s only got about two hundred, mostly badly done selfies as he’s trying to get her to laugh, but he does have a few of Spock leaning over her with his eyebrow quirked, and her big, big grin behind her binky. He shows them all to Nyota whose eyes have gone all soft.

“You’re not the only one getting attached, you know.”

Jim nods. “I know. But it’s complicated and whatever happens isn’t entirely in our hands. And I’m not sure how the hell to deal with it.”

She bites her lip as she passes the comm back, though her fingers twitch like she wants to take it back and look through the photos again. “Since there’s nothing you can do about it now, maybe deal with the other elephant in the room. Don’t you think it’ll be easier to work out if the two of you at least defined whatever shit-show you have going on?”

Jim knows she’s right, and he hates it, but he loves her for the blunt honesty and he knows exactly what Spock saw in her all those years ago. He mourns a little that whatever dissolved between them was his fault, even if she does seem happy now.

“How’s Christine?” he asks.

She kicks him under the table. “If you think I’m giving you sordid details…”

“Ow, hey!” he whines, but he’s grinning now and it’s an actual, genuine smile. “I’m being serious. You seem happy.”

There’s a glow about her as she smiles at him over the rim of her cup. Then she gives a little sigh—one he understands in an almost spiritual way—and she closes her eyes slowly. “I am,” she says.

Jim takes a moment to let himself think about having a ship again, with Christine and Bones, and Pavel and Sulu—maybe Ben too, and their daughter, a place where they can explore and have families. Because that thought leads Jim to thinking about shared quarters and shared beds and a little nursery, and Ania’s little grinning face as she sits on Jim’s lap while he orders, “Take us out, Mr. Sulu,” and the joy in her laugh when the ship hits warp.

~*~ 

Since Jim can’t stay out forever, and since Bones was getting ready to board his transport so he couldn’t talk long, Jim knows he’s got to go back. And frankly the three hours he spent out felt like three years, and his arms are missing the familiar weight of the baby.

He can’t hide his relief when he walks into the room and sees Spock on the couch with Ania passed out on his chest, and no sign of Sarek anywhere. Spock’s eyes are closed at first in obvious meditation, but he opens them the moment Jim shuts the door.

“My father has gone, and will return as soon as he hears from the Betazoid Ambassador. Did you find the conversation with Dr. McCoy helpful in settling your nerves?”

“I actually ended up having coffee with Nyota,” Jim says, feeling a little guilty, especially when Spock’s eyebrows fly up. “She was in the area. She says hi from her and Christine. They’re doing well, she seems happy.”

“As Nyota and I still communicate regularly, I have been made aware of her contentment in her new relationship. However I appreciate the sentiment.” Spock rises, and he turns toward the swing for a second, but changes course and it’s only moments before Jim’s got Ania nestled into the crook of his elbow. “She was rather distraught after feeding, but I do believe the virus and the colic are nearly gone.”

Jim lets out a small breath and lets himself be comforted by the waves of contentment he can feel from her, and the feeling of her in his arms means that he knows she’s protected.

“It is obvious,” Spock says as he resumes his seat on the couch, “that there is a lack of communication between the two of us. I understand it is…difficult, to discuss what we cannot know, both for emotions and peace of mind, it is imperative that we do so. My father pointed out the lack of emotional harmony in the house when you had gone.”

Jim flushes a little, and he sits in the chair that rocks, which is close to Spock and it’s not where he wants to be, but the distance seems necessary in the moment. He puts his hand over Ania’s chest and feels her breathing. She shifts and makes a small noise, and her chin wobbles as she gives a cursory nurse on the binky which is barely hanging on between her lips. He brushes his fingers along a few of her curls which are loose and still baby-soft, but thickening every day. 

“Jim,” Spock says.

Jim sighs. “I know. I…Nyota said I need to get my head out of my ass and just talk to you, but it’s not exactly easy, you know?”

“I do not know,” Spock says primly.

Jim looks up and gives him a slight glare. “Really? So I’m the only one suffering in silence here? The only one who doesn’t want to say anything because I don’t want to ruin whatever fragile thing we have…” He stops himself before he gets too far ahead because it’s one thing to assume both of them were experiencing the moments, and it’s quite another to speak those assumptions aloud and be rejected.

Spock watches him for a long time. “I admit to sharing in your fears. What we have is one of the most important relationships I have ever sustained.” He stops, and Jim takes a moment to be bowled over by Spock’s utterly open confession. “I struggle between the logic of not, as humans like to say, rocking the boat, and between the desire to make my affections more plain.”

“Yeah,” Jim breathes. He holds Ania a little closer. “Then it went and got more complicated.”

Spock bows his head. “I do not wish to bond or marry you in any capacity under false pretenses. The logic of it makes sense, but my emotions cannot be denied in this case, Jim.”

“So you don’t want…” Jim starts, but his words cut off as Spock stands, walks two quick strides to close the distance been them, and drops to his knees. Jim’s entire mouth goes dry and this throat seizes as Spock places both palms flat on Jim’s thighs.

“Do not mistake my words,” Spock says, and grips Jim’s legs a little tighter. “If we are to bond—or to marry—I wish it to be because the both of us have chosen it from our regard for one another.”

“I want,” Jim says, and his voice cracks so he clears his throat. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, Spock. I think you know that.”

“I was aware of your desires,” Spock admits.

Jim flushes, but he doesn’t break their locked gazes. “I could feel yours, too. I knew when things started to change, but things in my life—in my past, anyway—they don’t always lead to you know, things that are good. It’s usually an epic disaster involving the potential destruction of a planet and I didn’t want that for us.”

“Your hesitation is understandable.”

“You seemed happy with Nyota, and then that ended. And I know it was because of me,” Jim adds hastily.

Spock lifts a hand and brushes it along Jim’s cheek which effectively shuts him up. “My regard for you simply could no longer be denied, and it was unfair to ask Nyota to exist in a relationship I was all-too willing to end should you say the word. She is a person who deserves far better than I could ever provide.”

Jim laughs, a hollow, humorless sound. “Yeah. Yeah she does. And yet she puts up with us.”

Spock’s lips twitch into a soft, barely-there smile. He glances down at the baby. “I admit the acquisition of my sister’s child has made things more…complicated. I am experiencing new emotions and attachments, and I fear they have some influence over our situation.”

Jim decides there’s no point in holding back. Cards on the table. “If I had my way, we’d get married and adopt her, and take her with us wherever they send us. And I know that’s not possible right now—I mean, we don’t know anything about the father, or if your sister is coming back—”

“We would be unable to make anything legal without either a substantial absence of Michael’s presence in the child’s life, or without her consent—neither of which can be achieved in a timely manner,” Spock replies, and he lets the tip of his finger brush along the curve of Ania’s jaw. “But I, too, find myself occasionally lost in the idea that this is…something.”

Jim swallows thickly. “Pretending hurts, but I can’t stop it. Either way, I want you. I wanted you before Starfleet dropped a child in our laps, and I want you now. If I wasn’t holding a baby, I’d be pinning you to the back of the couch and kissing you until you couldn’t remember your name.”

Spock’s breathing goes a little haggard at that, and Jim counts it as a victory amongst the other few he possesses when he’s managed to unravel Spock even a little. “I do not believe it would be appropriate to abandon a child for sexual congress, but I would…not be opposed to sharing a bed space with you as she sleeps in her own.”

“Just no funny business with the kid in the room,” Jim confirms.

“I was unaware humor was supposed to enter into sexual acts,” Spock deadpans.

Jim rolls his eyes and uses his feet to push Spock back so he can stand up. “Then you’ve been doing it all wrong, Spock. Sex is supposed to be a lot of things, and I never, ever regret being made to laugh. Even with a dick up my ass.” He takes it as another win when he hears Spock actually choke for a second, on his own tongue.

~*~ 

They don’t get dicks up anyone’s asses after putting Ania in her crib. It’s too early in the afternoon for sleep, but it’s the perfect time to curl into one another and learn the intricate shape of each other’s mouths with their tongues.

Spock kisses the way Jim always imagined he would—with an intensity, focus, and desire to learn what makes Jim go weak in the knees. Jim’s never been more grateful in his life for the Vulcan aptitude for learning. 

Spock’s got his hands up the back of Jim’s shirt, and is gently dragging blunt nails against his warm skin, his plus mouth nuzzling kisses against Jim’s own when a comm goes off. Jim groans, pulling back just slightly to rest his head against Spock’s collar, and feels only mild outrage when Spock reaches for it on the nightstand.

“Spock here.”

“I have made contact with the Betazoid Ambassador. He is currently residing on Betazed and has located who he believes to be the father of the child. The situation is more delicate than I feared, and he is requesting a vidcomm with the two of you over a private channel tomorrow. Is that acceptable?”

“Affirmative,” Spock says to Sarek’s stoic voice. “Please note the date and time in a separate message, and expect us promptly.”

The comm goes dead without Sarek’s sign off, and a heaviness settles over them as Spock eases the comm back onto the nightstand. His arms pull Jim closer, holding him tight, and Jim can feel a sort of anxiety radiating just under the surface of the both of them.

“Well, this sucks,” he mutters.

“It is, unfortunately, an unpleasant situation, though we must take care not to make wild assumptions and control our emotions as much as possible so as not to disrupt Ania’s calm.”

“Mm,” is all Jim says. He doesn’t go back to kissing Spock, but he also stays tucked into the warm circle of his arms for the hour it takes Ania to wake up and demand attention.

~*~ 

They step into Sarek’s quarters, and Jim feels a rush of anxiety because this could be the moment a total Betazoid stranger decides to lay claim to the child in his arms and disrupt the fantasy Jim has about this new family he’s been quietly building over the last month and a half. And he knows it’s unfair to resent it, because Ania deserves to be with her family and have the chance to know them and be loved by them. It’s something Jim would have given nearly anything for—something more than his father’s recorded last goodbye played at every anniversary ceremony of the Kelvin. Ania deserves the chance to have a parent who will simply love her and appreciate her, and not see the ghost of a dead man every time they look at her.

And he knows that he and Spock can give that to her, but he also knows that he’s not the kind of person who will stand in the way of a parent who wants to actually be a parent.

No matter how much it hurts.

Sarek doesn’t say much, and Ania is fussy thanks to the feelings of fear and anxiety swirling around him. He knows Spock is better at blocking it, but he can’t seem to give her over, and Spock seems to understand that Jim needs this—needs her. Needs them both, really, and he gets that with the surreptitious way Spock lets his hand fall on the small of Jim’s back when they’re waiting for Sarek to bring up the call.

“The man is named Kalos Grax, and he has provided strong evidence of his association with Michael,” Sarek says. “The rest of his explanation I will leave to him.”

Jim is very aware of Sarek’s more obvious tells—and he knows right now Sarek is holding something back. It’s better to wait, though, even if the suspense is killing him.

The call takes a while to patch through, but soon enough two Betazoid men are on screen. Jim takes comfort in knowing that whatever their powers are, their ability to sense thoughts and feelings will be greatly diminished from the distance between Betazed and Earth. Even so, he still hugs Ania a little closer to his chest.

The first man, an older man with dark black hair peppered with grey, nods to them. “My name is Ambassador Hagen, and my many thanks to Ambassador Sarek for arranging this meeting. It is obvious it has become necessary, and it is more than a complicated situation since it does involve what we find extremely distasteful.”

Jim frowns. “What? The baby? Look, I know your people have a more xenophobic outlook on interbreeding with humans but…”

“That is not to what I am referring, Captain Kirk,” Hagen says. “I will leave it to the child’s father to explain.”

Jim’s eyes dart over, and instantly he can see some resemblance. His skin is as white as Jim’s, but he shares the same upturn in his nose that Ania has, and the Betazoid black eyes. There’s also the dimple in his chin which is just starting to form on Ania’s, and the heart shape of the face. 

He hates how much he can see there.

“My relationship with Lt. Burnham was unexpected, and occurred during a time I did not think the both of us were going to survive. It was unexpected that I would find my way back to my planet, so I gave in to my more carnal desires. We discovered her pregnancy three months before there was a chance at rescue. She declined to come with me. She was angry.”

Jim frowns. “Why?”

“Because I had no intention of declaring the child my own, and planned to undergo a process to have the memory of my coupling with her, and the existence of the child, removed. I have been in isolation since my return to Betazed due to a bacteria that I contracted that is dangerous to my people.”

“Are you,” Jim says, and breathes through his nose to control himself. “You want to forget your daughter. I don’t…she’s…she’s not wrong, you know! She’s perfect.”

Kalos nods his head, though he only spares the child a cursory glance. “I am married, and I don’t wish to have the relationship dissolve. Not the one that truly matters to me. My wife will be returning to Betazed in a week, and by the time she arrives, the memory of the child and that of Michael Burnham will be erased. The Ambassador will undergo a similar procedure as we cannot hide from one another the way human or Vulcan do.”

Jim can all but feel Sarek’s distaste for this entire thing, and he feels Spock stiffen beside him. “Fine. But you do realize that you’re on her birth records, right?”

“That can easily be contested, especially once the encounter is erased,” Kalos says simply.

Jim blinks. “But we…we know. We know all about it.”

“It is unlikely you will ever have contact with any Betazoid of any consequence,” Kalos replies. “Therefore you are not a threat, though we are prepared to make an exchange in order for you to agree to keep this information from the child as she ages.”

Jim feels white-hot rage—the white hot rage of a man who was rejected by too many, and loved by too few. And the child in his arms deserves so much better than this. He’s torn between wanting to run with her and never look back, and wanting to somehow beam onto Betazed and beat this man until he’s unrecognizable.

It’s obvious from the joint Betazoid expressions, they can feel his anger, so he decides there’s no point in voicing it.

“It’s clear by your feelings you want to keep the child as your own, and you have my full support. I do wish her well, but she is not mine. She is not Betazoid, and she does not belong here.”

Spock stiffens at that, and shifts closer to Jim, reaching out to lay his hand on Ania’s sleeping back. “As a child who was raised between two worlds, two species, I can tell you that you cannot wish her well and also deny her her own heritage. There is no peace or comfort in the feeling of not belonging.”

“She was born in space, of a renegade Starfleet officer who has no plans of returning,” Kalos says with a shrug. “She has no claim to any home until one is made for her. And it seems there is no shortage of that. Michael herself was between worlds, though she had no genetic claim to Vulcan. She considered this during our time together while she was pregnant.”

Sarek is stiff as he regards the two me on the screen. “Do you have any indication where Michael had gone?”

“She was reluctant to share much with me, and her Vulcan training served her well in keeping me out of the deeper recesses of her mind. I don’t know about her mission, only that she wasn’t willing to give it up. For anything.” He spoke with purpose, without having to say that Michael wasn’t coming back for the baby aloud.

Sarek merely nods. “We have no choice but to accept your word. I will see that the documents are taken care of regarding the child’s paternity.”

Jim looks up suddenly. “Michael named her Ania. Does that mean anything to you.”

Kalos blinks, then says, “It was the name of my sister who died as a very young child.” He hesitates, then says, “It means Spring Blossom. It is…fitting.”

Jim nods, and turns away from the screen, making the decision to leave the room without really being consciously aware of it. Spock is close at his heels, and holding him and Ania close in the main room once they’re far enough away that Jim can’t hear the voices through the screen anymore.

“I’m angry,” Jim states. “I’m so…she deserves better than that. Jesus.”

Spock sighs, and leans in to brush his lips across Jim’s, then further down to kiss the back of Ania’s sleeping head. “She has us.”

“Yeah, but what does that even mean?” Jim says. “Michael’s god knows where, and this is a foster situation. Eventually they’re going to want to put her somewhere more permanent. And I’ve only got so long before they…you know.”

Spock nods. “We do what we must. I will speak with my father regarding her custody, and as for you…” Spock carefully takes Jim’s hand, though he doesn’t dislodge it from holding Ania’ and he strokes two fingers down the back of Jim’s, and Jim knows perfectly well this is a kiss, and a promise. “We will bond.”

Jim’s eyes snap up to look at him. “But you said…”

“It is not the circumstances that I envisioned, but the circumstances themselves change nothing about what I want.” Spock’s hand drifts up to Jim’s face and he cups it. “Ashayam. Beloved. Bond with me.”

Jim nods and his laugh is a little wet as he says, “Of course I will. Like my answer would be anything else.”

Spock allows himself a smile, allows himself to lean in and capture Jim’s mouth in a soft, warm kiss. “Then together we will deal with the rest. I will speak with my father now, and make arrangements for the bonding. After that…”

“We wait,” Jim says, because with this part out of the way, there’s nothing else left for them to do.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So two apologies, this chapter is shorter than usual, and it took longer to update than usual because real life made me participate in it again, and also I got sick so yeah. 
> 
> I updated the chapter count because I realized I'm not going to be done by the next chapter, and it might go even longer than 8, but hey, we'll see.
> 
> Warnings for more gratuitous Vulcan pet names and Spock being his own version of emotional with Jim and the baby.

“Ashayam.”

Jim groans, rolling into his side, luxuriating for just a moment in a warm patch of sun. Then reality hits him—he’s at a San Francisco apartment, with Spock…and also _with_ Spock, and a child, waiting on edge for any news of what their future is to become.

He snaps awake, sitting up, his head almost bashing Spock in the face. “Sorry,” he says, his voice groggy as he passes a hand down his face. “Sorry, shit. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You were in need,” Spock says, and he rises from the bed, clasping his hands behind his back. “I have received a message from my father. He has gained permission to perform a Vulcan bond, which is a legally recognized partnership with the Federation and Starfleet. He also has asked us to attend him and speak in private regarding a matter surrounding my sister’s disappearance.”

Jim nods, feeling his stomach sink a little as he pushes up from the bed. “Okay. Uh. Well I guess we should hear what he has to say, right? About Michael. If she’s going to come take Ania then we won’t need to rush off to be…”

Jim’s voice falters as a warm palm reaches for him, touching him first on the face, then drawing two fingers up and against his own in an ozh’esta. The warmth floods him, affection, exasperation, fondness pouring from Spock even as his face betrays none of it.

“Ashayam,” Spock says, his voice low and careful, “it is my wish to bond with you regardless of the outcome of Ania’s placement. I do not feel rushed, and there is no gratification in delay.”

Jim’s cheeks heat when he realizes the absolute regard his First Officer has for him and he wants to throw himself in Spock’s arms and burrow down and just live there for a while, but he can’t. He also wants to throw him down and swallow him to the hilt until Spock comes down his throat, but he can’t do that either thanks to the small child now making whimpering noises from her little swing in the other room.

So instead he pushes into Spock’s space, and kisses him softly—the human way—then walks out to scoop Ania out of her little bundle of blankets. “When should we go?”

“I believe it would be in our best interest to have this done quickly,” Spock says. 

Jim’s sure Spock’s just as anxious as he is to have some direction in this whole, damn mess. Spock was never meant to be trapped on a planet—he was meant for the stars just as much as Jim was, and he thinks this little bundle nuzzled against his chest is the same.

“If you would ensure she is fed and clean, I will prepare what we need for the journey. I will send a communication to my father and let him know to expect us promptly.”

Jim thinks maybe it’s a ploy to give him all the dirty diaper duty, but frankly the busy-work is helping him stay focused instead of letting his mind wander to the worst possible scenarios. So he gets Ania clean, and she takes half a bottle and dirties yet another diaper before they’re finally packed and ready to go.

The fog’s rolling in as they head down to the aircar, so Jim secures the hat on her head before buckling her seat in, and lets Spock take over the driving controls so he can rest. The traffic is a little worse than usual, and they’re stuck at the entrance to the bridge for a while when Jim turns to Spock.

“Do you think we’d be any good at it?”

Spock merely raises an eyebrow in question as their car inches forward.

“The whole parenting in space thing. I keep thinking…” He laughs, a little humorlessly for a moment. “Shit, everything we went through over the last five years, Spock. How are we supposed to ensure the safety of a child.”

“Perhaps redefining the parameters of the job,” Spock says simply, and when Jim makes a questioning noise, Spock says, “It would be for the betterment of the child—of our family—if we were to jump into situations, as Dr. McCoy would say, ‘head first, and without looking.’ It is likely we will be on a peaceful mission, one less intent on making First Contact with new races. The education and experience will benefit Ania as she grows, so I cannot see any reason why we should not.”

Jim wants to balk for a moment, at taking it easy—which is basically what Spock is saying. But the truth is, he’s a little older, and a lot wiser, and hell he’s even been dead once—and nearly dead a few more times than that, and Spock has…well, Jim hates thinking about all the dangerous situations and almost he’s had to face with his XO. But he does see the point, and honestly not running for his life every damn time they touch ground on some foreign planet sounds kind of nice.

“Yeah,” he finally says, and right then the speed of traffic picks up and they’re soon coming to a halt outside Sarek’s building. It’s both a welcome reprieve and a frustration because life is the strangest mix of dull and chaotic, and it’s not entirely conducive to being able to think clearly. Which is exactly what he needs to be doing in a situation like this.

There’s not much they can do about it now, however, so Jim gets out and gathers Ania up into his arms as Spock manages her supplies, and they head up to Sarek’s quarters. He’s waiting for them in the sitting room, and he gives them each a nod, his gaze lingering on Ania far longer than it had the last time he was with her. Jim isn’t entirely sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Spock quickly sets up her plush mat, and the little arch with light-up shapes and sounds which she seems mesmerized by, though she’s still too young to really want to interact with it. But she’s content as Jim lays her down, and he seat himself nearby with his back to the couch, where Spock eventually sits, letting the edge of his leg brush against Jim’s shoulder.

It’s a subtle show of support, since Vulcans don’t touch by accident—it’s not enough to be offensive, but it’s enough to tell Sarek they are a united force.

Sarek, for his part, doesn’t draw attention to it. Instead he sits on the edge of a chair and rests his hands in a steepled position near his knees. “There are some things I have kept mostly to myself all these years, and I feel it is necessary to divulge them now.”

“May I inquire as to why?” Spock says.

Sarek nods. “Your inquiry is logical, and the answer is simple—I have a way of possibly making contact with Michael regardless of her position in the galaxy. With the information I may obtain from her, we can determine what should be done with the child. But in order to make contact, I will require assistance, and to get that, I feel it is necessary for you to understand the context surrounding my unique ability.”

If Spock is shocked by this, Jim can’t feel it. Perhaps Ania can, she gets a little restless for a second, but then settles when Jim pushes the light up blue square and it plays a faint twinkling-like Mozart sound.

After a long pause, Sarek says, “When Michael’s family was killed, she herself was near death. I performed a mind-meld in order to revive her and preserve her katra inside of her body. The meld created a bond—one you know is unique to our family…”

“Hold up,” Jim says, knowing he’s being rude, but he’s part of this conversation too. “What do you mean unique to your family?”

“Our family line possess a rare ability to form bonds—particularly those with humans—without the aid or interference of the High Counsel,” Sarek says simply, without much inflection. “I was able to bond with Spock’s mother, though we involved the Counsel to ensure our union was legally recognized between both worlds. As I have advised Spock to do with yours.”

Jim flushes, but nods. “Okay. But like isn’t that…that’s not like some child-bride shit, is it?”

If Sarek is offended, he doesn’t show it. “Bonds take several different forms. In this particular case, a piece of my katra was left inside of her, keeping her alive. Through this bond, Michael and I have had the ability to contact each other’s minds in times of great stress or need. She was solely responsible in reviving me when my ship was attacked by Vulcan Zealots during Spock’s youth. I may be able to use this bond in order to contact her now, but it does cause a great deal of physical and mental stress, so I hesitate as I am not sure her present condition.”

Spock is quiet in thought. “It would be illogical for me to ask if you have determined if the risk outweighs the potential information, so I will simply ask, at what conclusion have you arrived?”

“I estimate the possibility that you and captain Kirk will be left in an indefinite state of hesitation by the state for the full eighteen Terran years of Ania’s life should we not attempt to contact Michael,” Sarek says, and the very idea of spending eighteen years doing nothing sends Jim into a slight panic. He only calms when Spock presses his leg harder against his shoulder. “Therefore the risk to your wellbeing as well as the potential you two can offer Starfleet leads me to the conclusion that it is worth whatever danger it may pose to her.”

Spock nods. “I accept your reasons.”

“You must both be aware that although Michael’s relationship with myself has been strained, and we have moved past attempts at reconciliation, I still may not be entirely welcome in her head.”

“There’s a baby involved, and it was sent to either you or Spock so she’s gotta be expecting at least some attempt at contact,” Jim points out.

“It is…logical,” Sarek says, and almost sounds like he’s sighing. “As I do know my foster daughter well, it was something I considered when making my assessment.”

“So what do you need from us?”

“I may need assistance in reaching the deepest state of meditation in order to reach her across that distance,” Sarek says. “For that, I need Spock.”

Jim nods, and there’s really no pomp or ceremony at all as father and son rise, and leave the room. A door somewhere upstairs and far off shuts with a muted click, and them Jim is profoundly aware of how alone he is, and how much hinges on this moment.

“I’ve never met your mom,” Jim says as he flops down, propped up on his elbow so he can look down at the little girl who is sucking quietly on her binky. “I’ve heard a lot—I mean, everyone knew the Mutineer and her crimes and her acquittal and…you know. Everything. And I’ve seen some shit in the databanks that I probably shouldn’t have.” Jim reaches out and twirls one of her little curls which is getting a little longer, cork-screwing it around his pinky. “She’s brave though, and determined. And also a massive pain in my ass which I think after the shit I pulled these last few years, I probably deserve. But at the very least I hope Sarek can tell her you’ll be in good hands. You’ll be loved.”

He reaches out and puts his hand over her chest, marveling at just how much of his palm covers her still-tiny body. He projects as much of the love and affection as he consciously can into her, and after a moment, she smiles. Then, after another moment, she laughs.

~*~ 

It takes almost three hours. By that time Ania has gone through her full cycle of dirty diapers, food, fussy times, and nap. Jim’s got her in a bouncing rhythm in front of the large windows watching the city below when Spock finally emerges.

He looks tired, and for a second Jim catches a tremble in his fingers before Spock can pull it back. Otherwise he’s as composed as he always is—and that’s not really a surprise. Jim says nothing as Spock comes to him, wraps his arms around Jim from behind, and pushes his face into the crook of Jim’s neck to breathe him in.

“I’m dying here, Spock. What the hell happened.”

“It was…difficult, but he was able to reach her. She is…not coming home.”

Though they’re not bonded yet, Jim can feel the conflict of emotion in Spock—mostly because he feels it himself. How can she leave this creature behind—this gorgeous, beautiful creature who is now not wanted by just her father, but by her mother.

“There is danger for Michael,” Spock says quietly into Jim’s skin. “She’s trying to keep her child safe.”

And okay, Jim gets that. But his mom was trying to “keep him safe” and “teach him a lesson” when the whole Tarsus thing happened so he’s a little wary of parents doing the right thing. Yet Ania is there with them, snugly in Jim’s arms, with Spock wrapped around them both and a family that’s just on the cusp of being able to exist together legally and formally, and that…that feels like it means something.

“So what do we do?”

“Vulcans do not lie, but they can…manipulate when the situation arises, when it is logical,” Spock says very quietly.

“What does that mean?” Jim questions.

Spock is quiet for a long, long time. “My father can…manipulate records which will allow for an adoption process to occur at a much quicker rate. Otherwise we will be forced to wait several months, then file an abandonment claim, and eventual adoption which can take years.”

Jim shudders, and though he realizes he’s willing to do it—he’s willing to wait as long as it takes—well, he’d rather not. “Okay.”

“My father advises us to return home and make bonding arrangements. There are forms we must file with Starfleet for our change of status, and once that is finished, we may proceed with Ania’s custody.” Spock sighs this time, audibly, and then he presses a kiss to the side of Jim’s neck which makes him hot all over. “I find I cannot be sorry for any of it, as much as I know it troubles you. This is not what you intended when we walked to the agent’s office that morning before we knew of Ania’s existence.”

There’s real regret in Spock’s tone, which makes Jim turn in his arms. He uses his free hand to cup Spock’s cheek, and he pushes all of his love, his intent, his satisfaction, right into Spock’s skin. Spock’s eyes flutter for a second. “Do you understand now?” Jim asks.

“Yes, ashayam,” Spock mutters, kisses him the human way, then the Vulcan way. “I desire a return to our home.”

“Me too. Is your dad…”

“He is resting, and I will send him updated information tomorrow. For now, we deserve a rest.”

Jim nods, and doesn’t put up any sort of protest at all, when Spock gathers their things, and keeps them both very close as they head back to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to answer comments asap. I have another spirk fic partly done that I'm working on after I got sucked into the episode with the Romulan Commander and the aftermath of Jim having "Vulcan-y" ears. (some hurt feels and make-up sex, ya feel?) So look for that soon, and hopefully an update on this soon too.
> 
> Second thing I should mention which I did in comments I think before to someone but thought I should mention here--so like I'm blind and Discovery doesn't have audio descriptions on our tv platform yet which means either my GF has to do it or I have to just get by but there's so much Klingon with written subtitles, and so much action it's really hard to follow for me. I got through most if it but a lot was lost on me so there's probably a few things in this fic that don't match up to the show's events or whatever. So just kind of take it with my own creative license and some salt grains, and really I don't plan to use much of Discovery, just bits and pieces here and there. But someone brought it up in comments before so I thought I'd just drop a quick note here to say if I suck at it well...that's why lol.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I upped the rating to explicit because I wanted to err on the side of caution after I finished this chapter. It kind of straddles the line between mature and explicit, but I think it's descriptive enough for an E rating.
> 
> Spock's anatomy and sexual performance has been inspired by common fanworks and fan-theories regarding Vulcan anatomy and sexuality.

“Tell me something.” Jim turns on his side to see Spock lying slightly shifted to look toward Jim, and it makes something warm flare to life in his belly.

“Anything,” Spock says, like a vow.

“What’s it like? Being bonded? I mean, I know it’ll be different with us because I’m a human. But you were bonded before, right?”

“Affirmative,” Spock says, his voice a little cold and distant, and Jim thinks maybe it was wrong to ask because those memories can’t be pleasant.

“Did she die?”

Spock shakes his head. “My intended, T’Pring, was off-planet when Nero attacked.” His voice shifts a little, not really warmer, but less like he’s shutting Jim and his emotions out. He turns fully onto his side, though stays lower than Jim who’s propped up on his elbow. He rests his hand flat on the mattress between them, and when Jim touches the back of his first two fingers with his own, he softens into the Vulcan kiss. “Her family was one of the few who would consider a match with me, considering my hybrid status.”

Jim realizes there’s a lot he loves about Spock, but there’s a lot he also doesn’t know about him, either. “What was she like?”

“Logical,” Spock says, and the corners of his mouth turn up slightly at Jim’s chuckle. “Her logic was impeccable, and her intelligence surpassed many of our classmates as we studied. She is very beautiful.”

Jim feels a surge of jealousy which he thinks might pass through his touch on Spock’s hand, because he sees the way Spock looks at him with a glint of exasperated affection in his eye. “What happened?”

“Her preferred mate…” Spock stops, looking pained for a moment. “There is something that Vulcans do not speak of, but it is something you will need to know, as although I am hybrid, I will succumb eventually to Pon Farr. Our mating time,” he says, like it physically pains him to do so. “Every seven years in a Vulcan’s life, the mating time occurs. Stonn—the one she had chosen—he was older than I was, and he was full Vulcan, so it was only logical that it should happen before my own. She requested that our bond be severed so she may join with him.”

“And you agreed,” Jim says, ignoring the thousands of other questions now burning in his mind.

Spock nods just once, though he turns his hand over so his palm now accepts the kisses which Jim’s two fingers lavish on his skin. “It was only logical I do so. I felt no affection for her, and her presence in my mind had been a constant, from childhood, but never a comfort. At the time, I had begun my fledgling relationship with Nyota, and it seemed logical as well that I might open the possibility of bonding with another. One I had chosen.”

Jim feels that surge of jealous again, even though he knows there’s nothing but friendship between Uhura and Spock now. But he can’t erase the memory of them locked together in a soft embrace, her fingers under his chin, and Spock scared and soft with her. He can’t erase the moment in the ship when Spock all-but begged Jim to tell Uhura that he…

Well…

“Sochya, Jim,” Spock murmurs, and he brings his hand to Jim’s face, a soft caress which sends waves of affection humming under his skin.

Jim swallows, then gives in to his urges and reaches forward with his entire body as Spock takes him readily in his arms, kissing him the human way until Jim’s jealousy has faded. “It’ll be different with us, won’t it?” Jim asks as he settles back against the pillows.

Spock’s hand is still on him, drifting from his cheek to his hair where it pushes into the tousled strands. “It will. My bond with T’Pring was unconsummated and young. Ignored. We were both well practiced at keeping up our shields, and rarely let anything bleed-over. Our bond was severed before the destruction of the planet, when I was at my weakest. She never knew that part of me. The most she had known, something I am gratified to admit, is that she believed me to be strong.”

“You are,” Jim says, a heat to his voice because the last thing in the world he could ever stand is Spock thinking otherwise.

Spock offers him a small smile in return. “T’hy’la,” he murmurs. “Our bond will be that of t’hy’la. The rarest form, and one that even if I try, I could not shield completely.”

“I don’t want you to,” Jim says fervently.

Spock’s eyebrow lifts, a little playful, and he shakes his head. “You will not think so, once our minds are joined. It is the right of every being, even bonded ones, to have pieces of themselves separate.” He falls quiet, then drops his hand, only to take Jim’s and press their fingers together in the ta’al. “Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched.”

Jim feels something rushing up his arm, making his heart race and his cheeks flush and his groin stir. “What is that?” he manages to ask.

“It is what we are. What we shall be,” Spock says.

Jim closes his eyes to the weight of it—of how much he wants it, and how much that terrifies him because he never thought it would come to this. “How long do you think Ania will sleep?”

“According to her current routine, I expect her to remain asleep for at least one point four-five hours,” Spock says, and then reaches out and gathers Jim to him.

Their lips nuzzle together, smudging kisses between them, chaste but heated in a way that Jim can’t really explain. His hands roam, pushing at Spock’s shirt, up under the fabric where he meets skin strangely cool in spite of the raised temperatures that Spock prefers.

“Should we do this?” Jim asks against Spock’s seeking mouth. “I mean, before the bond? Is it taboo if we…”

“No, ashayam,” Spock says, and then kissing takes priority over words for a long, long moment. When he pulls back, he’s flushed and a little more breathless than Jim has seen him. “I am yours already, and the rest is all ceremony. But if you wish to wait, I will be content with it.”

Jim shakes his head. “God. No. I’ve wanted you for so long, I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t get my hands all over you. But I didn’t want to mess anything up.”

“You have not. You could not,” Spock says, and he reaches, turning Jim over onto his back and props himself up over Jim’s torso with two strong, still arms.

“If Ania wakes up…” Jim starts.

Spock quirks a smile. “I will hear her. She is secure in her cradle, and her breathing is tempered and even. We have time.” He reaches up and brushes his fingers along Jim’s psi-points and pushes his own desire right into Jim.

Jim can’t help but arch off the bed, his penis heavy and throbbing and seeking some kind of friction. Spock drops his hand from Jim’s face, trailing a searing path down his chest, then cups him through his sleep pants. Jim’s eyes all-but roll back into his head and Spock gives a whole body shiver, reminding Jim how absolutely sensitive Vulcan hands are. He manages to open his hands which he hadn’t realized were fisted into the sheets until he tried to reach for Spock, and he manages to snag the hem of Spock’s shirt, dragging it up and over his head.

Spock is pliant and willing as Jim undresses him, and his hands are even quicker and more perfunctory as he strips Jim, a methodical thing though he takes absolutely no care with the clothes once they’re free of Jim’s body. Their skin is warm now, both of them heated, though Jim is the only one sweating. He knows Vulcan’s don’t really omit water from their bodies, though he knows Spock can cry because it was one of the last things Jim had seen before he died.

Still, the stark differences between them—making them both so alien to one another—only serves to make Jim want him more. “Will it be different when we bond?”

“You will feel my pleasure as your own, as I will feel yours,” Spock says, then dives in to suck lightly just under Jim’s ear. “We will learn each other that way.”

Jim groans and his hands go seeking, down and down until he’s cupping Spock over his briefs. He expects to feel hardness there—he’s not exactly educated in Vulcan anatomy because it hadn’t entirely occurred to him until this moment—and he’s surprised that he feels something hot, and a little damp, and swollen. But no penis.

“It will not extend until my Pon Farr,” Spock explains. “But that does not mean there will be no pleasure between us.” He takes Jim’s hand and moves it to the small of his back. Jim digs his fingers in, not too hard, and his entire face goes flush when Spock gives a deep, guttural groan of want.

“Jim,” he breathes, right up against Jim’s neck as his head bows forward of its own accord. “ _Jim_.”

Jim continues to massage there, even as he rocks his own hardness against the cut of Spock’s hip. It’s a perfect slide, a little dry but his foreskin slides easily and getting wetter the more he’s turned on. Their heads turn, and mouths seek a little more, and Spock’s rutting backward against Jim’s hand, and Jim’s rutting forward against Spock’s hip, and there’s singing tension and lust rising between them.

It’s not long before Jim tips over the edge, and it’s possibly the shout, or the hot spurt of semen against Spock’s flush-warm skin that has him shaking and gripping Jim almost too hard as he achieves his own release. There’s no physical evidence of it except in the way that Spock’s pupils are blown wide, and his mouth is parted and his breath is hitched as he lifts away to look Jim in the face.

“Did you…?” Jim manages.

Spock attempts a sound, but when no words form, he merely nods and collapses onto his side, half his body still draped against Jim’s.

Jim’s fingers delve into the back of Spock’s hair, soothing, feeling now the barest hint of sweat growing rapidly cool. His own release is sticky between them, but it doesn’t matter because all of this—every second of it—was perfect.

“I love you,” he finally says.

There’s a very long, drawn out pause before Spock says, “And I you, ashayam.”

Normally a fan of being meticulously clean before bed, Jim this time just struggles with the blankets until they’re pulled up toward their shoulders. He holds Spock tight and orders the lights at five percent, then lets himself doze until the baby—and the rest of their world—calls for them.

~*~ 

Spock enters the room and his dark eyes immediately zone in on the baby nestled in Bones’ arms. Jim can’t help his little grin when he sees the way Spock’s shoulders tighten protectively, and notices the way Spock his holding back his instinct to gather up what is his.

“It was the only way to really shut him up,” Jim says, lounging back on the couch with one let hitched up on the arm. “He won’t yell at me if he’s got a baby in his hands.”

“Don’t think this is going to spare you a damn thing,” Bones grumbles, but there’s a softness in his voice that is rare, and sweet.

“Watch your mouth. She’s like a sponge,” Jim scolds, but he’s grinning like a cat who got the canary. “I don’t want the first words out of her mouth to be damn. Or hobgoblin,” Jim adds, then winks at Spock who merely nods at him.

Bones rolls his eyes, but he settles back in the chair and shifts Ania who is awake and staring with wide, wondering eyes. “I think she likes me.”

“As she is not protesting, that is highly likely,” Spock says. “As part Betazoid, she is highly attuned to those who possess an innate ability to cause harm or distress.”

“It’s a wonder Starfleet doesn’t hire from the Betazoid pool more often,” Bones muses. “Seems like that little trick would come in handy. I mean, yours works okay and all, but damn if it’s not inconvenient that you gotta go run those voodoo fingers all over shit before you can get a reading.”

Spock ignores the veiled insult as he answers. “Humans find it highly invasive dealing with a species untrained and unlikely to stay out of the deeper parts of their psyche. Likewise they find their stark honesty often offensive. By the same cultural differences, Betazoids find it offensive to deal with such a secretive culture, and do not find any benefit in using their powers to aid in Federation dealings.”

Jim remembers reading his history on Betazed and the near civil war that broke out when they began to debate whether or not they would join the Federation. “Yeah well, our girl is half-human and she’s going to have amazing control.”

Bones hums something under his breath, but the way his soft eyes stare at the infant in his arms, Jim can tell her ability to project peace and contentment is working—even on him. “So,” Jim says after a bit, “give it to me straight, doc. Is she gonna live?”

Jim sees Spock actually give in to his human impulse and roll his eyes as he finally crosses the room and sits next to Jim. “She has been observed by a physician and her case worker, both of whom have pronounced her in perfect health.”

“Yeah well, I don’t trust them,” Jim says petulantly, turning his doe-eyes on Bones who has finally looked away from Ania. “She was locked in some sterile room for a week without any real contact, and that’s not good for any baby, especially an empath.”

“Well, you’re not wrong, but she seems to have formed a secure bond with the two of you,” Bones says, and his eyes flicker from Jim to Spock and his expression goes a little contemplative. “I don’t think any long-term issues were created in that week. In my professional opinion, it could be detrimental to have her separated from you two again for any extended period of time.”

Jim lights up at that and drops his leg to sit forward. “Could you give that to us in official documents, Bones? We don’t know what kind of fight we’ll be putting up here, especially when we petition for her to come aboard the ship but…”

Bones’ expression darkens. “Jim, I’m a doctor, but pediatrics and psychology—especially xeno-psychology, aren’t my specialties. I was barely given the clearance to work on a ship with a Vulcan, and twice I had to call in M’Benga. I don’t think they’ll take my word for it.”

Jim deflates. “I mean, it can’t hurt, can it?”

Bones shrugs. “No, but it might not help.”

“Perhaps you have contacts, Dr. McCoy? From the Academy.”

Bones hums in thought as he tickles Ania’s cheek with the tip of his finger. Her tiny giggle, muffled by her binky, is enough to interrupt his thought process, and Jim sees a quiet, wistful smile on his face. He knows this can’t be easy, knows what Bones has gone through just for the little bits of time he gets with Joanna. Eventually he comes back to himself. “I’ll make some calls. Scotty got an alert that they’re getting the Enterprise ready to fly again, and I know they’ve got you on the list. Whatever happens with this,” he says, and pokes Ania in the stomach gently, “it had better be soon.”

Jim feels dread pooling in his gut. He can bond with Spock as early as tomorrow—hell, they could go down to a court building today and get a marriage license if they wanted. But all that would allow is a few more weeks being grounded. He won’t put it past Starfleet to pull strings and interfere, leaving him and Spock waking up without Ania one morning, and nothing they can do about it.

Spock seems to sense his distress, and he shifts closer, lets his arm fall between them so his pinky can brush up against Jim’s. For a Vulcan, the gesture is almost lewd, and Jim appreciates it for what it is. “I will speak with my father today and attempt to impress upon him the necessity to hurry the situation along.”

“You also need to consider that you’ll need proper childcare on the ship,” Bones points out. He’s got his finger firmly attached in Ania’s now, and there must be some sort of happiness or humor leaking through because he can’t seem to control his grin. “A Captain and XO aren’t really geared up to be the most attentive parents as far as your jobs are concerned. And as much as I can see most of the crew jumping at the chance to babysit, you also need them.”

Jim knows this. He does, and he knows that they’ve had a ship nanny before, but most of the children belonged to science workers, lab assistants, ensigns, and yeomen whose jobs weren’t as demanding as the rest of the bridge crew.

He looks at the baby firmly snuggled down in Bones’ arms and wonders if there’s a way he really can have both worlds, if he really can have his family, and live amongst the stars.

His thoughts are interrupted by Spock’s hand on his, pressing palm to the back of his own. “Although Vulcans are not one for imagery—at least not since the teachings of Surak, there is something to be said about the nature of your birth, and that of our daughter.”

It’s the first time Jim’s heard Spock refer to Ania as theirs aloud, and it does something to his insides. He bites his cheek, though, to let Spock go on.

“You were both born in space, in situations which could have caused your untimely deaths, and yet you survived. It is perhaps illogical, yet comforting to think of that as…meaning…something.”

Jim has to close his eyes against the warmth building there because he cannot fall apart in front of Spock or Bones. He nods, and he gathers himself. “We’re going to make it work.”

Bones sighs, and lifts Ania who has spit her binky out and is grinning at him openly. “God help us,” he grunts, but something’s lost in the words, as he says it with a massive smile.

~*~ 

Jim’s just stepping out of the water shower when he’s accosted by Spock. Hands are at his naked hips, just above his towel which starts to slip. Before he can save it, he’s backed against the wall and his mouth is devoured with a sort of ferocity which might be frightening if not for the love and affection he feels pouring from Spock’s fingertips.

“Tomorrow,” Spock says. “There will be a delegation from Vulcan arriving late in the night, and tomorrow we will complete our bond. After which, my father believes he has a solution to Ania’s paternity, and will be drawing up a petition for allowance of families aboard the Starship on a trial basis.”

“What better way to experiment than a science officer and a guy who cheated death,” Jim mutters right against Spock’s lips. Then it hits him. He’s going to be married tomorrow. To Spock. “Shit,” he says.

Spock merely huffs what could be construed as a laugh, and kisses Jim once more. “Indeed.”

Yes. _Indeed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Sochya- Peace


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the bonding. And up next the epilogue :) Thanks to everyone for sticking with this. I have a few other fics planned, so expect those soon!

Jim’s at the counter, trying to ignore the anxiety humming under his skin by concentrating on a non-replicated breakfast. He used to cook—a long, long time ago before things with his mom got bad, and before Tarsus and…everything. His cheesy, meat-filled omelets were one of the few things that could rip Frank out of a hangover and make things less…well…make things _less_.

He can’t do meat now, of course, but he’s got some veggies sizzling in a pan and a pile of shredded cheese next to him that he picked up at the market earlier. It had been expensive—non-synthesized dairy always is with the animal regulations and import shipping, but it was worth it. The coffee’s brewing, and the weird, spice tea that Spock loves so much is steeping in the glass pot to his right.

In the background, Ania is howling with rage through her bath which she hates about as much as Vulcans hate being immersed in water, though he thinks for her it’s just an age thing and hating being cold. He thinks maybe part of the reason he feels so unsettled is Ania’s projection of her emotions, and he yet again worries how they’re going to fare on the ship until she’s old enough to learn how to block everything out. Worth it well…yes. And he’s planning on full disclosure when he gets his ship assignment. _If_ he gets his ship assignment. He has no idea how badly Starfleet is going to be pissed once everything’s submitted.

All the same, Jim’s willing to take these steps because he’s in love with both Spock and that little baby and he never expected it. And maybe if he hadn’t died—maybe if he hadn’t almost lost Spock, and maybe if Pike was still there and he didn’t have so many dead on Khan’s hands which inadvertently stained his own, he wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice his fledgling Starfleet career. But maybe this was also what the elder Spock had been talking about when he said that it wouldn’t matter how much he told Jim, because their paths had diverged a long time ago—from the lightning storm in space. From the death of his father.

Jim sighs and begins to whip the eggs into a frothy mess as he hears Ania’s cries turn into soft whimpers. It means she’s out of the bath and Spock is probably carrying her into the room to get her dressed for the day. For _the_ day. The big day which Sarek promised would bring a Vulcan bonding and a means of securing Ania as their own. Jim still has no idea how it’s going to work, but if he’s going to trust any mind to work out the logistics, it’s going to be a Vulcan one. Better yet, one from the House of S’chn T’gai. For whatever happened between Sarek and his foster daughter, Jim can tell that he’s not going to let the fate of the child rest in anyone else’s hands.

That alone is a comfort.

Jim pours the egg batter in a swirling motion over the vegetables and watches as it froths and bubbles. He adds the cheese in a makeshift frittata which isn’t as good without the proper cooking pans, but it’s good enough. There’s a bowl of chopped fruits and some sweet buns he found from a fresh baker.

He thinks it’s maybe an appropriate pre-bonding meal. It feels romantic, anyway, and domestic which is why he’s doing this.

Jim tests the frittata and when he’s certain it’s done enough, he slides it onto a plate just as his comm chirps with a message. He swipes his hands down the front of his lounge pants and then grabs for it.

**Nyota: Expect me and Bones. Sarek sent a message and said you needed people for your side of this. A head’s up would have been nice, Jim.**

Jim feels a wash of guilt, and part of him wants to assuage it by telling Nyota that it’s not what she thinks—that it’s for the baby. But it isn’t, and it is, but it’s more than any of that and he’s not going to lie to her.

_Jim: It was all kind of sudden, I didn’t mean to keep it from anyone. With the baby it’s just a lot._

**Nyota: You can make it up to me. I’m happy for you.**

Happy for you, not the both of you, which maybe means she’s still a little bitter and he can’t blame her. If he’d somehow lost Spock to someone else the way she had, he’s not sure he’d be even a fraction as genial as she is. Then again, Nyota was always a far better person than he was. He certainly didn’t deserve her forgiveness or her friendship, but he had it and he planned to treasure it.

Just as Jim sets the comm down, he hears a noise behind him and sees Spock walking out in a fresh, dry shirt with Ania bundled in his arms. She’s wearing footie pajamas with little sheep on the feet, and she has her hands curled around her bottle, though she’s more sleeping than drinking it.

Jim abandons the comm and breakfast to walk over, curling one hand around the back of Spock’s neck as he leans in to press a kiss to the center of Ania’s forehead. “I believe her protests at being bathed have worn her out,” Spock says, and there’s a softness in his eyes, even if it’s not present in his tone.

“Well, put her in the swing and we can eat. I cooked.”

“The smells during your task indicated as such,” Spock says, and he walks to the hover swing. He nestles Ania down, strapping her in then covering her with the blanket. He taps her lips with her binky and she opens for it, sucking furiously on it until she settles herself back to sleep. Spock turns on the pink-noise ocean sounds, then turns back to Jim.

Neither of them make a move toward the kitchen. Instead, Spock’s hands slide around Jim’s hips until they reach the small of his back, and they pull him in so the two of them stand flush, not a centimeter of space between them. Spock dips his head in and noses along Jim’s jaw, then to his neck where he presses the softest of kisses, just below his ear.

“God, if I had any idea what a secret, cuddly romantic you are…”

“It is a well-kept secret amongst my people,” Spock says, and Jim hears the teasing smirk in his voice. “Something only a mate can bring out in us.”

“I’m glad it’s me,” Jim says, and Spock lifts his head, dark eyes meeting light ones.

“Indeed, I share that sentiment.”

They take a moment to just look at each other, with the weight of what’s to come between them, and then Jim’s hand slides down and curls around Spock’s wrist. “Come on, I cooked for you and I want you to tell me how lucky you are that you picked me as your intended.”

“I do not need food for such a declaration,” Spock says, but all the same, he lets Jim drag him to the table.

They sit and it’s a comfortable silence, borne out of years of space travel and years of protecting one another from whatever dangers lie ahead. This is just natural for them, Jim thinks. A natural progression of a thing which really, was inevitable. He watches with a foggy fondness as Spock cuts into the egg and sips his tea.

“Although it is illogical to eat for pleasure alone,” Spock says after some time, “this meal was enjoyable and I would not be opposed should you choose to repeat it.”

Jim smiles widely, knowing what a compliment that actually is coming from Spock. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Indeed, I find myself taking strange pleasure in the illogic you bring, k’diwa.” Spock allows the corners of his mouth to rise, but before Jim can respond, there’s a chirp from the back room that indicates a priority message from Starfleet. “I will check it. Please finish your meal. Sustenance before bonding will be necessary, especially for you.”

Jim wants to be offended, and wants to say he can handle it, but he’s also human and by nature weaker and not equipped to take what’s likely going to be a trying moment of psychic pressure in his psi-null brain. So he lifts his fingers instead for ozh’esta and although the message awaits, Spock takes his time drawing his fingers down Jim’s, letting them drift around the back of his hand until they press to his wrist.

There are no words spoken as Spock heads to the back room, and Jim merely allows himself to sit and bask in the lingering warmth Spock left in his hand.

~*~ 

Jim doesn’t give the communication a second thought until he’s buttoning up his tunic—the clothing provided by Sarek himself and fitting strangely comfortable on his human body. He can see why they wore things like this on Vulcan, and continue to do so on New Vulcan, because it feels like air against his skin.

As he stares at himself in the mirror, realizing he’s about to bind himself to his First Officer and best friend and t’hy’la for the rest of his life, the door opens and Spock steps in. He’s got a tightness around his eyes that says he has something to tell Jim, but it’s momentarily wiped away as his gaze settles on Jim in the Vulcan clothing. He’s got a PADD in his hands, but it’s abandoned to the desk as he crossed the room in several quick strides and crowds Jim up against the dresser.

“Like what you see?” Jim manages to get out before his mouth is claimed in a hot, wanting kiss.

Spock pulls back before Jim’s done with him, but steps out of reach even as Jim tries to surge up for more. “We…must wait,” Spock says, the only thing in his voice betraying his emotion is the slight roughness around the words. He pauses as he gathers himself, then looks back for the PADD. “There is something you must sign.”

Jim frowns as Spock turns for the PADD. “What is it?”

“We have been assigned a ship,” Spock says, and the words hit Jim like a bucket of ice water.

“I thought…”

“They wish you to Captain the Enterprise again, another five year mission.” Spock’s watching him carefully, and when Jim says nothing he says, “They wish you to accept the position and either accept or adjust the current crew manifest.”

“You,” Jim says, and his throat goes dry and tight. He clears it, and looks anywhere but at Spock’s face. “I don’t…doesn’t this seem…premature?”

“I will leave this for you here. The car who will take us to the Vulcan Delegation will arrive in thirteen point four minutes. Nyota and Dr. McCoy have already arrived and are currently presiding over Ania’s immediate care.”

Jim nods, feeling suddenly like he’s walking through water as Spock turns and walks out, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t know what to say, what to think or do, but he knows the answers are probably on that PADD. Spock would have said something otherwise. If Starfleet was trying to separate them, Spock would have done something about it by now.

He turns away from it, for as long as he can stand—just long enough to finish dressing. Then the pull is too great and he sweeps it up into his hands as he falls to the bed. It’s soft beneath him, and steady, and it’s enough to keep him grounded as he swipes open the order.

It’s not unfamiliar—before this thing with Ania he expected it. He knows that at any time command of his girl could be given to anyone else, but he knows that Starfleet knows he won’t be the same in any other Captain’s chair.

He sees the thumbprint square beneath his orders, waiting for him to accept the post. But he knows that there has to be more on here, or Spock wouldn’t have left it like that.

He scrolls down and sees names he recognizes, and names he doesn’t. His breath comes a little easier when he sees Nyota on there, and Scotty, and Bones. He sees Chekov and Sulu, and Chapel, and then he sees the list of possible XOs and Spock’s right on there. He doesn’t have to think twice when he ticks the little box beside Spock’s name.

But he keeps going, because there’s more. The five year mission, similar to his previous one only this one is to gather more data, and at the bottom is when he stops. The mission will commence in three months, when the additions are made to the ship to accommodate—on a trial basis—the families of certain officers. He sees Sulu’s husband and daughter on there, and his face flushes. He sees ten names, actually, and then at the bottom—the very last—makes his heart threaten to stop beating for just a moment.

Ania Kirk.

His fingers are shaking, and he rises just as the door opens up and he sees Spock standing there.

“How?” he demands.

“I believe it was the work of my father. There is a second message containing her birth records which have been altered due to a submitted genetic sample which confirmed that you are, in fact, her paternal parent.”

Jim’s shaking enough to drop the PADD now and he’s alone only as long as it takes for Spock to cross the room and gather him up. “Your father…”

“I could not hypothesize,” Spock says.

“There’s no way that case worker is going to believe that,” Jim says, his face buried in the front of Spock’s tunic.

Soft, chilled hands reach for Jim’s chin, tilting his head up. Spock’s eyes are warm and careful. “She has been given no choice. The case is closed, Jim. Regardless of whether or not we go forward in our bonding, Ania is yours.”

“Ours,” Jim says, his tone almost sharp it’s so fierce. His hands reach up, reach for Spock’s face and cradle it gently. “There’s no fucking way I’m doing this without you.”

Spock’s lip twitches into a half smile, but it only stays long enough for Jim to surge up and claim his mouth in a kiss. “I love you. You know that, right? I love you?”

“I am aware, ashaya,” Spock says, and he clasps their hands together and holds them between their bodies. “My regard for you is without measure.”

Jim nods and he gathers himself so he doesn’t look like an emotional mess when he goes out to meet Nyota and Bones. His crew. Or well, part of his crew. Two of the people who matter most. “Shall we?” he eventually asks as he pulls away, though he’s yet to let go of Spock’s hand. “Are you ready?”

Spock brings their joined fingers to his lips and kisses them. “I believe that I have never been more ill prepared for a single moment in my life,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “And I have also never anticipated something so much.”

~*~ 

For what it’s worth, the bonding is significantly shorter and less terrifying than Jim expects it to be. T’Pau performs the entire thing with her stark, cold fingers on each of their faces, and when Jim comes away, all he’s left with is a soft warmth wrapping around his core which feels like it’s always been there.

“That’s it?” he asks when T’Pau steps back, and she merely quirks an eyebrow at him.

“As Vulcans, we do not indulge in pomp or ceremony when it is unnecessary to…”

“No,” Jim interrupts, then flushes because yeah, faux pas, but he’s human so he thinks maybe she expects it. “I just…that wasn’t so bad. I thought I might get a headache or…”

“You have been nurturing a fledgling bond for long enough now, Mr. Kirk, it is of no surprise and it is of absolute logic that you would take to the bond’s completion with ease.”

Jim looks at Spock who merely raises a brow at him, then he looks over at Sarek who is hovering just behind Nyota’s shoulder and looking down at Ania who slept through the entire thing. Jim wants to say something—to thank him, at least, for what he did. But he’s fairly sure his thanks will be rejected as illogical, as Sarek wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t found the need for it rooted in his own logic.

All the same, it’s anti-climactic in a way Jim wasn’t prepared for.

The Vulcans dismiss themselves, none of them interested in participating in the small celebration that Jim’s friends are throwing. But Spock attends at Jim’s side without complaint, and Jim’s startled to see Sarek agreeing to join them, even if he’s certain he won’t last long.

Everyone has drinks, and at some point Jim gets his daughter—his _daughter_ —from Nyota who hands her over reluctantly. “I know you got the ship manifest so I expect you to approve the crew by tomorrow,” she bitches at him. “And seriously as she gets older, you’re coming to me for her hair. I don’t want you trying any white nonsense on these curls.”

Jim laughs and holds Ania closer. “I wouldn’t dream of it. And uh…thanks. You know? For being here and for…all of this.”

Nyota shakes her head. “It’s not exactly what I pictured the future like when we took that first mission, but it feels…right.”

He grins at her. “Yeah.”

She stiffens after a second. “I should uh…I’ll catch you later.”

Jim turns to see what scared her off and is surprised to find his newly minted Father-in-Law approaching. His hands are clasped behind his back, but his shoulders don’t hold any tension, and if he trust his ability to read Vulcan faces, he’d swear Sarek has some vague amusement in his eyes.

“For such an illogical tradition, it does please me that the bond between yourself and Spock is being celebrated.”

For Sarek, that’s an over-emotional compliment. “I love him,” is all Jim can say.

Sarek nods once. “I have been made aware that Spock did not share the entirety of my contact with Michael with you.”

“Yeah,” Jim says with a shrug. “I mean, I figured it was private so…”

“The bond I share with her is unique, as unintentional as it was, and I prefer to keep the nuances of my abilities to myself. However I find it necessary to ease my conscious by informing you that she found this arrangement between yourself, Spock, and her daughter to be most agreeable.”

Jim’s eyebrows raise a fraction, even as he holds Ania closer at the mention of her being someone else’s daughter. “Really? She’s cool with a total stranger taking over to parent her kid?”

“Michael’s future will remain…unclear, perhaps for the rest of her life, and she is well aware of that fact, Jim. But as she is human, she cannot help but be concerned with the welfare of her offspring. She is also well versed in both your reputation and your records, and I was quite clear in informing her of Spock’s regard for you.”

Jim is struck silent for a moment, because he had expected Sarek’s reasoning to be logical, but that seems…less logic and more emotion. “Oh. Uh. So she…I mean, she trusts Spock?”

“Aside from my strained relationship with my son for many years, Michael nevertheless remained close with her brother until it was impossible to be so. I find she regards him highly, and would trust few others with the welfare of her offspring.” Sarek pauses. “In essence, Spock trusts you, so she trusts you.”

Jim nods, then asks the question that’s been burning in his gut for a long time now. “Is she ever going to come back and try to fight me for her? Because I can’t do this if it means having to give her up in five years.”

Sarek looks at him for a long time. “Vulcans to not make it a habit in concerning themselves in the emotional welfare of others—particularly humans. However, in my case there is an obvious exception. With that said, Jim, I must be clear that your happiness is important to Spock, therefore it is important to me. With that, I would have never put you in the position to gain a family, if it only meant losing it later. I cannot predict the future, but I can estimate the chances of you and Spock being put in that position, and the percentage was so low, it was not worth calculating.”

Jim’s head swims with what that really means, coming from a Vulcan who would never, ever hesitate to give the possibility down to the exact number, no matter how small. “Thank you,” he mutters.

Sarek merely nods. “Be well, Jim.”

He walks off, and only moments later, Spock’s there with his arms reaching around Jim’s waist. It’s practically lewd, this physical contact, but Sarek’s nowhere to be found, nor are any other Vulcans, so he supposes Spock doesn’t mind indulging. Plus, it’s their wedding night, damn it.

“I have been informed that it is tradition we are given a room of our own on this night,” Spock says. “Nyota and Christine have volunteered their time with Ania so we might take part in that ritual.”

Jim burns for him suddenly, even as anxiety fills him with dread at leaving Ania.

“They will remain one floor below us,” Spock says behind his ear, which tells Jim arrangements have already been made. And well…it’s hard to argue with that.

“I promised Nyota I’d approve the manifest before morning.”

“Then it is appropriate we must return to our apartment for essentials,” Spock says. “Then you can complete the necessary tasks.” There’s a heat to his voice that Jim wants to give into, wants to turn and just bury himself inside Spock. But there’s a sleeping child in his arms and a room full of people.

“That looks like my cue,” chirps Nyota’s voice and suddenly Ania’s being pried out of his arms. “Just drop her stuff off when you two get back. But I’ve got her diaper bag and plenty of formula so…take your time.”

Jim flushes, but he doesn’t stop Spock’s possessive grip on his wrist as he’d let out of the reception hall, and to a waiting aircar.

~*~ 

The tension in the car is so thick, Jim almost suffocates on it and he’s damn-near crawling out of his skin as Spock gets their apartment door open. It shuts with a firm click just as Spock crowds Jim up against the wall and presses their bodies together in a long, firm line.

“I wish for you to take me,” Spock says against Jim’s lips as he claims his mouth. “I find I cannot withstand the thought of being apart from you for another moment. It is…” He groans instead of finishing his sentence.

Jim has been subject to a lot of his base desires before—from shit like going too long without sex to weird pheromone pollen on random planets. But right here, with Spock carefully exploring his mouth with a warm, rough tongue, Jim’s never been so turned on in his life. His erection is straining at his pants, and the tent of them is getting wetter and wetter by the minute.

“Yeah. Yes. Shit,” he gasps as Spock’s hands find their way under his tunic. It’s more now than it was before, because as Spock touches him, his mind lights up and he can _feel_ things he couldn’t feel before. “Is it…god, is it always going to be like this?”

“Yes,” Spock says from behind a groan, and then he all-but bodily hauls Jim away from the door, and into the bedroom.

It’s lucky the bed is soft, because Spock is decidedly not as he methodically strips the both of them and his hands are bruising as they search out every inch of newly exposed skin. Spock’s slit is engorged and wet, and when Jim’s hands explore further back, he finds Spock wet there, too.

“I…” Jim asks, surprised because although he knows it’s a wild assumption, he didn’t think the Vulcan’s were so…prepared.

“It is only logical that our bodies provide us what we need in order to maximize the pleasure of coitus,” Spock says, and then takes Jim’s hand and shoves it between his cheeks.

Jim’s fingers instantly seek, like it’s instinct, and he revels in every huff and quiet moan he elicits from Spock. “You want me,” Jim says, and it’s not a question, but an awed statement because not only is Spock’s body reacting, but now Jim can feel just how much Spock desires him through the bond.

“You are beloved, t’hy’la. There shall not be a moment when I do not,” Spock says. 

This time he allows Jim to manhandle him to hands and knees, and it’s only a second before Jim is pushing in—eyes rolling back as his penis is engulfed in slick, hot, tightness. Just like in his front, Jim can feel small villi pulsing and producing lubrication and sort of squeezing themselves around Jim’s erection which is the most erotic thing Jim has ever, ever felt.

His hands wander as his hips begin to piston, and his fingers find Spock’s slit, find the head of his penis which will not yet extend. “When this happens…” he says, his fingers pushing deeper into Spock’s folds, caressing the penis which is full and hard, but pliant in its sheath.

“It is when I shall mount you, claim you. My time of mating,” Spock says, breathy as he pushes his hips backward for friction and pleasure.

Jim feels his own waves of it and the underlying waves of Spock’s own pleasure humming just beneath the surface, and it’s a wonder he managed to last this long because when he becomes aware of both of their minds twined together like that, he’s coming. His head drops between Spock’s shoulder blades and he’s pulsing and releasing.

Spock isn’t far behind, and there’s the smallest gush of fluid against Jim’s fingers before he retracts them. They’re bone-tired and if it wasn’t for the fact that Jim doesn’t think he can sleep that far from where Ania is, he’d just roll over in Spock’s arms and live there until the honeymoon is over.

Spock hums his agreement with the unspoken thought, and his lips drag dry and slightly parted along Jim’s forehead. “Taluhk nash-veh k'dular.”

Jim smiles against Spock’s neck and holds him tighter. “Well. We did it. We got married and had a baby and we’re going back to space. How do you feel?”

Spock takes Jim by the chin and draws his gaze up until their eyes meet. There’s stark honesty, and love, and happiness in the twinkle of his eye as he says simply and easily. “I am gratified.”


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short, fluffy epilogue. I do plan to write more in this universe so I'm going to add a series tag for it so my future-fic one-shots can be organized. Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! This fandom is the best. <3

“And this, Ladybug, is all for you. Scotty decided you should have the best view on the ship, and since we couldn’t keep the observation room all to ourselves, he built you this window.” Jim has Ania in his arms, her back against his front. Her little legs are kicking happily and she’s currently gumming her little fist, drool flowing like a river from the teeth she’s cutting.

Beta shift just ended, so Jim’s putting Ania to sleep and he’s planning on using the whole of Gamma shift to make Spock fall apart, then sleep as long as space will allow. It’s been exactly four months since they bonded, and two weeks since they left Earth’s orbit. They have their first four missions already laid out for them—all of them scientific data gathering which is boring as hell, but it puts Jim at as much ease as he can be out here.

“You ready to sleep?”

Ania makes a soft cooing noise, and he holds her, watching the darkness beyond knowing that it’s not what it seems to be. The vast emptiness is only an illusion, and he’s well aware of the dangers that can lurk in any corner, in any quadrant. But he also knows the same dangers exist on Earth, and on New Vulcan, and any other planet they could settle on with their new, small family. At least here he’s on his ship, with the crew who is his family—a group of people who would do anything to protect this small life he holds in his arms and that’s what Jim needs.

That’s what they all need.

Jim feels a slight tugging through the bond, and he rocks Ania side to side while sending back a request for patience. Her eyes are getting heavy and she’s almost ready to lay down. Jim feels a pulse of love, and he’s hit with a huge rush of it a moment later which he knows is coming from the child in his arms.

He shifts his hold on her and buries his nose in her curls, breathing in the smell of her and pushing down on the wonder of how this all came to be. The loneliness and confusion and sense of not belonging seems like a dream now—like a waking nightmare he’s finally escaped from.

He doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he gives Ania the last of her bottle, and then checks her diaper and tucks her in. She grabs her binky with one hand and within seconds, her eyes are shut. Jim watches her for a moment more, then creeps through the partition between their rooms, and finds Spock sitting on their bed with his feet on the floor, hands steepled in a light meditation.

The line of his shoulders soften when he becomes aware of Jim, and he waits patiently with eyes closed as Jim sheds his clothes and deposits them into the laundry sani. Spock’s arms are open for him the moment Jim is ready to climb into the bed, and they fall together a messy tangle of limbs, not bothering with blankets or sheets right away.

Their mouths find each other as their hands do, kissing both ways at the same time which is heady and perfect. Jim wants, and he can feel that Spock wants, but he also feels their shared fatigue and also how satisfying this is, too, without needing all the rest.

Jim pushes his face into Spock’s neck and breathes him in the same way he’d done with Ania earlier. His love for her and for Spock is warm and safe, though rare moments—like this one—tend to trigger the worst of his thoughts. Tarsus still lurks in the shadows, and reminds him of the cruelty of what lies beyond their safe bubble, and the thought of Ania being anywhere near a place like that terrifies him.

“She will not leave the ship, and she will be with at least one of us at all times,” Spock reminds him, not reading his thoughts, but able to feel where his head is at through the bond.

Jim sighs. “I know.”

“And yet your mind persists in these scenarios,” Spock points out.

“Yeah. I know it’s not logical...”

“I would expect no such thing from you, Ashayam,” Spock murmurs. He pushes his fingers against Jim’s psi-points, but he doesn’t go in far, just enough to give him a push of security and a reminder that Tarsus is long over and he’s here with his family. “I simply wish to convey that whatever illogical scenarios your mind conjures regarding our daughter, none of them will occur.”

“We’ve seen a lot of shit,” Jim reminds him. “I mean, I get why they were hesitant to let families on board.”

“And yet, we are more diplomatic than we have ever been, and there is more peace in the galaxy than there has been.” Spock pushes his fingers through Jim’s hair, then trails them down his jaw, cupping his cheek and kissing him. “This time, should we receive a request from Starfleet to breech the Neutral Zone and obtain something from the Romulans, we shall politely decline.”

Jim snorts, shaking his head, trying not to think of how much that little adventure had almost cost him. He still couldn’t erase the hot stone of jealousy lodged in his gut at the memory of Spock and the Romulan commander’s connection.

Spock gave a soft but audible sigh. “I would always choose you, should I have one. But you are t’hy’la, and nothing can come between that.”

“I love you,” Jim murmurs.

“And I, you,” Spock says back.

They bask in each other for a while, fingers drawing soft, nonsensical lines along exposed skin until Jim’s so near sleep, he’s not sure if he’s dreaming or awake. He comes to with a start, not sure how much time has passed, when he hears the sharp cries of Ania from her bed. He resigns himself to getting up, but Spock pushes him back down to the pillows.

“I will attend her,” he says, and kisses Jim softly.

Jim groans. “Spock, you have Alpha shift. You need the rest.”

“And I am Vulcan,” Spock reminds him. “I require less rest and I recover far faster than you. Besides, you and I both know full well that caring for Ania during shift is far more trying than the shift itself.”

Jim concedes because Spock’s clearly not in the mood to be argued with and frankly, sleep sounds amazing. So he flops back down with a resigned sigh and doesn’t fight when Spock rises, grabs his robe, and slips past the barrier into Ania’s room.

It’s quiet for a moment after Spock picks her up. Jim can her faint whimpers, and then nothing. And then, in the soft hum of the ship he hears Spock’s voice speaking low and quiet to her. “I am here. There is never a need to worry, ashal-veh. Even if you feel alone, it will never be true.”

Ania coos back, the way she always does with Spock, and it’s with the sound of his bondmate and his child safe and near, that Jim finally allows himself to sleep.


End file.
